Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Emma lived.

She lived running and hiding in fear but she lived.

Emma’s life had been far from perfect, from the moment she was born she had been no more than a pawn in someone else’s game. By the time she could form thoughts, must’ve been a few hours after her birth, she knew she wanted something else for herself. She wanted a normal life, the kind of life girls that looked her age complained about.

She wound up at her father’s doorstep with a knife tucked into her sleeve, and her heart racing. Her trust hadn’t fully settled but she’d be damned if she didn’t play all her cards, if she didn’t do anything in her power to keep her fate from sealing.

She caught the glint of his gun as he leaned into the fridge, Emma took her knife into her hand as she stood up. She had been trained for this all her life, however many days it had been by then.

Neither of them could pull the trigger, they watched each other in a stalemate. Their hair was the same dirty blonde, their eyes the same olive green. 

Emma ran her mouth, she later realized it was a nervous habit of hers. She tried to seem stronger than she was, which only brought on more vigorous retaliation than she could handle. With her uncle’s eyes on hers, she collapsed on the ground.

It burned first, then it knocked her breath out of her lungs. She didn’t know she was falling until her whole body was in pain, her eyes closed as the bullet sank into her sternum.

Emma couldn’t breathe or move.

She could show no sign of it, but she was alive. She listened as her father and uncle left the motel room, swimming in and out of consciousness. She thought she remembered them discussing whether or not to leave her there, but she might’ve been dreaming.

She found her mother.

Linda had been terrified at the sight of this young girl covered in blood at her doorstep, Emma still held on tightly to her knife just the same as her mother. Linda put her knife down when she recognized her necklace, her head high and her eyes closed.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered. “I should’ve protected you, I know. I’m sorry Emma.”

Emma took a sharp breath, the only kind she could with a bullet lodged in her chest, and dropped her knife. She collapsed into her mother’s arms, let herself be carried to a bed by the Amazon that brought her to life.

They had to run.

Changing houses turned to changing cities, their bags always packed and Emma always the mysterious new girl in school. Emma didn’t mind any of it, despite Linda’s protests that she should have a regular school and social life like any other kid.

Emma slung her backpack on one shoulder as she walked into the bathroom, the rest of the students rushing away as soon as the bell chimed. Her steps were hurried as she walked into the stall, closing the door after herself. She sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled her feet up, holding her backpack to her chest. She listened to the faint footsteps following her, reaching into her bag as she heard the bathroom door being locked.

“I know you’re in there, Emma.”

Her name sounded poisonous on the woman’s lips, Emma grabbed the handle of the knife tighter. She shuddered as she heard the stall across from hers get kicked in, the door flying off with a great rumble. The next stall followed, meeting the same fate. Then another, completing the row.

“And then, there were three.”

The woman remarked theatrically, Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the dramaticness of it all. She started from the other end of stalls, quickly making her way to Emma.

The patent leather kitty heels paused in front of her, Emma held her breath as she let her feet down.

She kicked the door before the woman got a chance to do so, sending her and her ugly choice of footwear flying into the stall across them. Emma took off, running away with her bag in one hand and her knife in the other.

The Amazon pushed the stall door off herself with ease and stood up, catching Emma by the back of her shirt’s collar. Emma jabbed her knife into the Amazon’s hand, her hold weakening enough to allow Emma’s escape. Emma turned quickly to stab her in the stomach, the Amazon’s eyes turning red momentarily. The Amazon, Emma remembered her as Kate from her days in that cultish orphanage, reached back for her in rage. She grabbed Emma and threw to the farthest wall, the young girl crashing against the large mirror and falling down with its million shiny pieces. She fell right onto the sinks, breaking them along with perhaps a few bones she could feel snapping back into place.

With blood dripping from her legs and back, Emma sat up. She searched the tiled bathroom floor with her eyes as Kate took leisure steps towards her.

“Looking for this?”

Kate held up the knife, her brows raised and her lips spread thin. Emma stood still as the Amazon took her final steps, standing before her.

“Look at you,” Kate’s lips curled in disdain. “Stuck like a labrat in a maze and yet you still hold out hope. Don’t you think it’s time to give up, Emma?”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, scoffing. “But not for me.”

The Amazon was close enough, Emma looked up into her quizzing eyes for the slightest moment. She grabbed the faucet that had broken off upon her fall, hooking it behind the Amazon’s achilles heel as she stood up.

The Amazon fell to the ground, quickly reaching to grab Emma. Emma raised the faucet, stabbing it through her heart. She did it again and again until she was certain Kate couldn’t come back from it, she looked down at her hands covered in blood.

Emma stood up almost as if running away from the dead body, wanting to cover her mouth with a hand but unable to risk being covered in blood any more than she already was. She washed her hands in the sink trying to calm her heaving breaths by watching the water turn pink. Though tranquility was far from her as the broken sink burst out with an egregious stream of water, Emma tried cleaning her hands and face as best she could.

She quickly located her bag that had flown off as she had, unzipping it and pulling out her jacket. A knock came from the door, the other Amazon checking in on Kate. Emma put her jacket on, zipping it up all the way before escaping from the small window of the bathroom.

She followed the crowd of students out of the school, her hood pulled down and turning to look over her shoulder every few seconds. She walked away like it was any ordinary day, her feet wanting to take her to the comfort of her home. She battled herself, taking every deroute she could. Going home could endanger her mother, or very well give Emma the chance to save her from the hands of Amazons. 

One backstreet led her to another, Emma’s eyes nervously glancing back. Time and time again, the shadows were still and the streets vacant. Emma let her tired steps take her home, grasping onto the straps of her backpack.

She hid behind a bush momentarily, trying to see into the house. It looked empty as far as she could see, but Emma could not so easily shed away the edge. She slithered in through the living room window, Linda stopped her pacing back and forth with a shudder.

“God, Emma.” She crossed her arms, always trying to act older than she looked. “What sort of time do you call this? You had me worried sick, where have you been all day?”

Emma turned her head to look out the window she’d come through, only then realizing the day had given into night.

“Baby, are you alright?”

Linda let her arms fall to her sides, stepping closer to Emma with furrowed brows.

“We have to go.”

Emma’s voice came out breathy, Linda closed her eyes for a second.

“How long do we have?”

Linda asked as she rushed up the stairs, Emma following suit.

“They found the school, it won’t take them long to find us here.”

“Pack your things, only what’s absolutely necessary.”

Linda had her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, they shared a look at the top of the stairs. 

Emma went to her room, dumping the contents of her backpack on the floor. She filled it with some clothes, tucking her small knives into the sides. She opened the drawer of her side table, taking out the ziploc of money she had saved and placing it in her backpack as well.

Linda came along with her own backpack in her hand, holding an envelope in the other one. She put the envelope into Emma’s backpack, zipping it up and helping her sling it onto her shoulders.

“What was that?”

Emma asked, Linda parting her lips to answer.

A crash sounded from downstairs, Emma was all too familiar with the sound of a door getting kicked in. She climbed out of her window, taking a few steps along the roof her mother had specifically chosen the house for. 

“There aren’t any of them down there, come on!”

Emma beckoned her mother over, Linda rushing to the window. Just as she grasped the sill, Linda stopped in her tracks.

“Run!”

She shouted at her daughter, rising from the ground.

“Mum!”

Emma screamed, a knife resting on her mother’s neck. Soon the pale skin gave way to bright red blood, Emma’s eyes as large as her mother’s as they watched each other in fear.

“End of the road, little Emma.”

The Amazon called out cheerily, her hand grasping at Linda’s dark hair as the woman trembled her last breaths.

“Mom,”

Emma whispered, staring in disbelief. The Amazon let Linda’s lifeless body fall at her feet, her hands clean of the blood.

Emma jumped down the roof, not having to look over her shoulder to know she was being followed. She took a hard left, sprinting to her lungs’ best ability. She took a right turn then another left, after that it all turned hazy.

Even the moonlight couldn’t reach and illuminate her by the time she realized she’d lost the Amazons, she stood in the middle of the busy street and turned around. She watched the crowd intently, waiting for a familiar face to pop up at any moment. Her mother’s blood threatened to dry on her face, she wiped it away with the arm of her jacket. She let her slow steps guide her, moving along with the rest of the flock.

With no other choice, Emma made her way to the bus station. She pulled out her fake id, bought a ticket for the earliest bus.

She bunched the ticket into her backpack along with the id as she walked away from the vendor, following the small neon signs to the bathrooms.

She got into a stall, feeling all too nostalgic as she closed the toilet lid and placed her backpack on top of it. She took off her jacket and her shirt, exchanging the latter for one that wasn’t stained red to maroon. She looked down at her dark jeans, deciding they’d have to do for a while longer. She pulled her jacket back on, resting her hand on the stall wall for balance.

She hissed as she pulled her hand away, tears filling her eyes. She looked at the cut on her hand, the wound having healed significantly since this morning. Emma could feel her skin try to pull together, her Amazon genes working to leave no trace there ever was a wound there. 

She placed her other hand on the slash, clutching her hands to her chest. A sob escaped her, her hands coming to close against her lips.

The wound was perhaps the only proof left of her past now, and soon it would heal like it hadn’t ever been there. And with that there would be no evidence that Emma was loved, that she had a mother who had cared for her and died for her. Emma did not wish to lose her cuts and bruises, didn’t want to revert back into the perfect soldier they’d raised her to be.

She took a step back, wiping her tears with the sleeves of her jacket at the sound of footsteps. She swallowed, her shoulders tense and her hands ready to attack on her sides.

“There’s a line out,” A lady with an accent Emma would’ve found funny at any other moment knocked on the door, her tone scornful. “Be quick.”

Emma’s shoulders relaxed, her hands now reaching into her backpack. She took a knife with her just in case, before taking his backpack and unlocking the stall. Her bloodied shirt laid in the trash, she walked out under the irritable gaze of the women in line. The woman that had knocked stepped into the stall, mumbling angrily under her breath.

Emma washed her hands in the sink, hissing as water reached the scar on her hand. She cleaned her face with her wet hands, watching her own face like that of a complete stranger.

She didn’t so much as breathe until she got on that bus and felt it moving. She let out a sigh of relief, letting her backpack occupy the empty seat beside her. She rested her head against the window, watching the livid city. Happy families passed her by, children up past their bedtimes. She stared out the tinted window until there was nothing but her own dark reflection looking back at her.

She unzipped her backpack to find her earphones, the envelope her mother had given her rustling between her fingers. She found and put in her earphones, taking the white envelope into her hands. There was nothing written on either side, the paper left as white as the day it had been bought. Emma opened it, finding a handwritten letter inside.

“My Little Wonder Woman,

As I write it, I hope and pray that you won’t ever have to read this letter. I would rather not write it at all, but the fleeting nature of our lives forced me into action. I don’t know if we had the chance to properly say goodbye the last time we parted, or if we strayed urgently and quietly. Either way, consider this my last farewell to you.

I don’t know how to say goodbye my sweet Emma, I’ve never had to do it. I had my path decided for me long before my conceiving, just the same as you. As an Amazon, I was raised and trained to kill my own father. But unlike you, I did it. Without so much as a thought, even. I didn’t feel much guilt or remorse after either, I knew I had done what I needed to survive.

In the short period I was pregnant with you, I thought about it long and hard. I thought of my father I never knew, of my first murder, of this fate that had been carved for you as well. 

However proud I was to have a daughter as smart and beautiful as you, I felt that ashamed of what I had to put you through. But you’ve exceeded all my expectations, Emma. You’ve decided on a life for yourself, made your own way no matter how hard it was. Never blame yourself for the choice you’ve made, my little girl. Because I never will. Or in the instance that you’re reading this letter, I never did. And I hope you can forgive me for the selfish way I’ve brought you into this world, I promise to you that I did not know any better.

Unfortunately you have got to be on your own now, without me as your keen safety net. So eat your vegetables, stay out of trouble. Wear your coat when it’s cold, stop thinking you are above a common cold. Smile when you can, be brave, trust in yourself. Don’t stay alone too long and most importantly stay alive . Live, Emma. Live for me, live for us and live a good life.

I have one final wish, one thing I hoped I’d never have to ask of you. I know you may curse me when you read this but it’s important to me, I hope that you never have to understand the despair of a mother that is unable to protect her child. Find your father, find Dean Winchester. I know you do not trust him, I am not asking you to do so. He is our only chance, try and get him to help you.

And if he refuses, then run my little girl. Run until the end of the world, if you must. Do whatever it takes to stay alive, to live. You know you have my full trust and support, wherever I am.

I love you, Emma.

Goodbye.”

Chapter Text

Dean pulled the shutter down, tucking the keyring in his pocket. He clapped his hands, airing away the dust. A man slowed to a stop behind him, Dean reached for the knife in the inner pocket of his coat.

“Dean, was it?” The man called out, stepping towards him. “Mind if I steal you for a minute?”

Dean turned around, releasing his breath as he recognized the man. The elderly man lived down the street with his wife, practically Dean’s neighbor.

“Hope there isn’t anything wrong, Billy.”

Dean smiled, walking over the rest of the distance to the man.

“It’s the damn bathtub!” William answered, scoffing. “It won’t drain! We turned off the tap but the water keeps running, it won’t stop. I tried everything I knew to do, couldn’t find a mechanic this time of day either. I remember you said I could come to you if I needed something. You know anything about plumbing?”

“Sure,” Dean shrugged sheepishly. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Billy did not look all that convinced by Dean’s abilities but he did seem more at ease to hear the man would help him.

“Well, thank you all the same.” He nodded his head cordially. “We better be fast, the house might be underwater by now.”

He started walking, motioning for Dean to follow him.

“This is the umpteenth time these two weeks, I tell you. Janet blames me for it all, even the tub getting clogged after her two hour long baths.”

“You tell her that, Billy?”

Dean raised his brows, looking at the older man.

“You lose your head, boy? Cause I don’t want to. You know how many wars I’ve been to? None scared me like Janet does.” He stopped walking. “There, that’s our house.”

“Your-” Dean turned to the man, his eyes shifting back and forth from the house to him. “Your lights are turning on and off?”

“Are they?” William squinted. “Might be the house calling for help to get away from the wife.”

Dean tried to suppress his laugh as they walked up to the house, William flipping through a few keys to get the right one.

“Janet’s ears don’t hear much, don’t tell her I told you that but it’s because of her age. So I always let myself in, don’t even bother knocking. One time, I remember, I was taking out the trash and the wind blew the door closed. I had to wait a whole damn hour out in the cold.”

“A whole hour?”

Dean asked as the man turned the keys one too many times.

“Yeah, and she only noticed I was gone cause she couldn’t find the remote. Another time I had to spend the whole night outside, least it was summer.”

He pushed open the door, allowing Dean inside the home.

“Janet, I’m home!”

He screamed at the top of his lungs, startling Dean.

“Why are you yelling if she can’t hear you?”

Dean asked, shedding off his coat.

“In case she’s somewhere close.” William explained, taking the young man’s coat and hanging it up. “So that she doesn’t think I’m a thief and smacks my head with a pan, huh, remind me to tell you about that sometime. Anyway, the bathroom’s upstairs.”

Dean followed the old man up the stairs, all the way to the bathroom. He grimaced as he stepped into the flooded room, the linoleum covered by a thin veil of clear water. William paused at the threshold, turning to the hallway.

“Janet?”

Dean stepped closer, letting a sigh of relief out as he found the tub vacant.

“This is the tub you speak of?”

“Yep, just the one.” William nodded without turning to the young man. “You tinker on in there. I gotta go find the Missus.”

Dean watched it hopelessly, the tub empty and the tap idle. He would’ve thought William to be exaggerating if it weren’t for the water all over the floor. Dean turned the tap on, then turned it back off. He tried the same with the sink, the results were less than remarkable.

With his mind flashing back to the lights going on and off earlier, Dean started wondering if this was more than just a simple plumbing issue. With the voices of the elderly couple rising, Dean rushed out of the bathroom and to their side.

“I’ll say it one last time, Janet! I did not try to strangle you in that darn tub! Ask the boy if you gotta, I wasn’t even home!”

William shouted at the woman, Dean stranded against the doorframe of their room.

“Well, then there was someone else in the house!”

“We’ve lived here for years, Janet, that kinda thing don’t happen around here.” William took a deep breath. “Maybe you just slipped and fell in the tub?”

“Don’t try to tell me what I lived through, Will.” Janet furrowed her brows. “Or I’ll drown you in that tub myself!”

“Alright, Janet.” William held his hands up in surrender. “Tell me, then, what happened?”

Janet was about as menacing as William made her up to be, Dean found himself holding his breath when the woman’s eyes turned to him.

“Dean?”

“Sorry, I just- I just couldn’t help hearing. If you want, I’ll just-”

“Do you think I’m crazy too? Do you think I tried to drown myself in that tub?”

Janet sighed, awaiting Dean’s response earnestly.

“No, I believe you. If you could explain exactly what happened, maybe Billy here could get it too.”

“I laid down towels on the floor, because of the bath flooding. Then the water stopped, I turned to look at it.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “But when I turned the water- it was pitch black. Then I heard a child’s laughter and next thing I know, my head’s being pushed underwater.”

“Then what?”

Dean’s brows furrowed, the hairs on his arms standing up in expectation.

“Well, what’d you expect? It stopped and I ran away.” She took a moment to think it over in her head, her lips turning. “That bath is cursed.”

“We’ve lived here for thirty years,” William protested. “I don’t think that if it were haunted, it would’ve waited until we turned into raisins to kill us.”

“I hope the bath drowns you next so that you believe, my beautiful husband.”

“When you were in the bathroom, did you notice anything out of the ordinary like the room getting colder?” Dean asked timidly. “Or any problems before like lights going out or things going missing?”

“I can’t-” Janet reached her hand up behind her ear. “There, say that again now.”

“What’s the point of having that darn thing if you’re gonna keep switching it off?”

William turned to his wife, eyes narrow.

“I turn it off so I don’t have to hear your nagging, but you still find a way to get on my nerves.”

“Oh, I guess I’ll die and leave you alone, then!”

William shouted, throwing his hands up.

“Even in death I’m sure you’d find a way of annoying me!”

Dean let out a sigh as he turned around, silently making his way back to the bathroom. Dean watched the bathroom, thinking the couple’s words over. If the situation was as he surmised, the house couldn’t have been the problem. The cause had to have been an object brought home, roughly two weeks ago.

He took a look into the empty bathtub again, opening the mirrored shelves above the sink to stand face to face with half empty prescriptions in little orange containers. He knelt down to the floor, pulling open the cupboard under the sink.

“The rest of the plumbing’s in tip top shape,” William appeared at the door frame. “Don’t waste your time.”

William walked over to the tub, leaning closer with furrowed brows and narrow eyes.

“You really are handy, huh?” He smiled upon seeing the tub drained. “How’d you do it?”

“A master never shares his secret.”

Dean stood up and turned around, William extending a bit of cash to him.

“Don’t want your money,” He held his hand up, William tucking the money back into his pocket. “But I’d appreciate it if you did your grocery shopping at my market.”

“You can bet on it.”

William patted the young man’s back as they walked down the stairs, making their way to the front door.

“See you, Janet.”

Dean waved as they passed the door to the living room, Janet did not look up.

“What’s your secret, Dean?”

William asked, making Dean pause as he put on his coat.

“My what?”

“The neighborhood has bets on you,” The man explained, leaning closer to Dean secretively. “Don’t tell Janet but, I played too.”

“Well, what are you betting on?”

Dean asked, a huge grin on his face as he fastened the buttons of his coat.

“You know, your backstory.” William said as if it was perfectly natural. “There’s two picks. First one’s that you were some famous actor that got in serious trouble, so you had to fake your death and change your face. The second one, the one I bet on, is that you were the leader of the mafia. You wanted to leave that corrupt life behind and live a quiet one down here. So, which one is it?”

“Have a good evening, Billy.” Dean laughed. “You know my number if anything happens.”

***

Dean’s brows furrowed as he worked diligently on his playlist for the day, a pen between his nose and his pouty lips. He looked up as the bell on top of the door chimed, welcoming his first client of the day.

“Welcome to Winchester Market.”

He offered a smile as the teenager rolled her eyes.

“You really have to say that creepy sentence every time?” She asked as she considered the chips. “I’m sure people are aware of where they are.”

“Are you?” Dean checked his watch. “Cause I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at school right now, Alicia.”

“If this is how you speak to all your customers,” She continued browsing, unbothered. “I’m not shocked your little shop is empty.”

“You haven’t bought anything yet,” Dean rested his feet up on his desk, crossing his arms. “So you’re not technically a customer.”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to entice your customers before they buy something. Not after, that sort of defeats the purpose.” She leaned against the steel display, crossing her arms before her chest. “This is your first time doing this, I presume? Or… you went under and we both know why.”

“You aren't such a bright student either, Alicia. So, glass houses.”

The girl rolled her eyes another time as she walked over to the cash register, an energy drink and a packet of chips in hand.

“You do know you’re beefing with a fifteen year old, Dean?” She watched the man as he scanned her items. “Maybe try and be a little more mature?”

“Ouch,” Dean smiled, raising his brows in surprise as he handed Alicia her bagged purchases. “That hurts.”

***

Dean jolted awake at the sound of his phone ringing, quickly answering the call.

“Dean, the damn tub is clogged again.” William spoke calmly. “Can you come have a look?”

“I’m on it, Billy.” Dean rubbed his eyes, getting to his feet. “Keep out of the bathroom ‘till I get there, okay?”

Dean gathered a few things from his market, putting them into a paper bag quickly. He ran all the way to William and Janet’s house, not wanting to waste time taking his baby out of the garage. He rang the bell as he tried catching his breath, Janet opened the door and took a good long look at him. 

“You’re getting stranger each day, Dean.”

The woman watched as Dean stood before her with a big bag of salt and an iron rod gathered into a paper bag, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hello to you too, Janet.” Dean smiled, stepping into the home. “Nice to see you as always. Where’s Billy?”

“Take a guess.”

Janet said as she turned around, Dean followed her up the stairs hoping that was the right guess. Dean’s brows furrowed as they stopped before the bathroom door, listening intently to the splashing sounds.

“Is he- Is Billy taking a bath?”

“No?”

Janet turned to him with a judging expression. 

Dean opened the door, rushing in to find Billy trashing halfway in the bath. He was standing on his knees with his head pushed underwater, by the phantom child that stood beside him.

Janet gasped, unable to scream as she grasped onto the door handle. Dean took the iron rod and swung it across the kid.

“Knew it!” Dean threw a celebratory punch up in the air. “Who’s rusted now, baby?”

“Now, what the hell just happened?”

Billy asked as he held onto the side of the bath to get up, blinking away the water on his face.

“I told you, you idiot!” Janet screamed. “You should’ve listened to me when I told you this place was haunted! God heard my prayers and that damn thing drowned your ass!”

“Hey!” Dean held his hands up, looking at the two. “Everyone, downstairs, now!”

***

Dean sat himself down on the coffee table, watching William and Janet as they settled on the sofa before him. 

“Billy, Janet…” He took a deep breath, the couple awaited his words nervously. “There’s no easy way of telling you this, but your house is haunted.”

“Haunted.”

Billy echoed, looking very much haunted himself.

“You saw that thing upstairs.”

“Don’t waste your breath, Dean.” Janet interjected, her tone a bit softer as her shaking subdued. “You’ll get nowhere with him, he doesn’t even believe in god.”

Dean frowned for a moment, wondering what to say next. He could have easily spat out that he didn’t have faith in the big guy either, but that didn’t come as easily as it used to.

“Well, let’s keep god out of it, then.” He settled, smiling at the two. “How long ago did you say these… oddities start?”

“Two, maybe three weeks?”

Janet estimated, William’s eyes narrowing as he turned to his wife.

“Three weeks?” He asked. “No, it’s been precisely two weeks. Ever since your damn weekly visit to the antique market. I told you not to bring those cursed things into our home.”

Janet opened her mouth to answer, her eyes large in rage.

“Could I see those cursed things?”

Dean leaned forward, a large smile on his face.

William let out a sigh, getting up from the couch. He took Dean down stairs that looked creepy enough to be haunting the house alone, pulling a small chain to light a lone light bulb. 

Dean felt the hairs on his arms standing as he looked around himself, at least hundreds of tiny eyes looking back at him.

“Jesus!” Dean said as he took in walls covered from the ground up to the ceiling in dolls, creepy old dolls. “She really loves these dolls, huh?”

“Tell me about it.”

William sighed as he stood in the middle of the room, watching Janet descend the stairs.

“Well, hope you remember which one you got last.”

“Of course,” Janet grinned proudly, leisurely making her way to them. “They are lined by their purchase time, and the shelves are labeled with the dates.”

“And you call me strange.”

Dean turned to the woman, brows raised.

“Why are we down here, exactly?”

William asked, eyeing the dolls like they’d charge at him at any moment.

“To find the haunted one and burn it, obviously.”

“Over my dead body!”

Janet took a step closer, brows furrowed as she stood threateningly in front of Dean.

“We wait a little longer and that’ll be the case, honeypie.”

William walked over to Janet, placing a soothing hand on her back. Janet considered it for a moment, her eyes glancing over the walls filled with dolls.

“Fine, but just so that my bathroom stays dry.”

She went over to the shelf closest to the door, picking up dolls one by one after a moment of searching. Dean opened the bag of salt, drawing a circle on the concrete floor.

“Stay in there ‘till I come back, yeah?”

“There’s ten,” Janet announced as she handed the dolls to Dean. “Some good ones too, damn shame.”

“I’m sure they’ll go to doll heaven, Janet.”

Dean winked, his face barely visible as he walked up the stairs with an armful of dolls.

The phantom child appeared before him, Dean stopping dead in his tracks only to lose his balance and tumble down the stairs along with the dolls.

“We really put our lives in his hands?”

Janet whispered, leaning closer to her husband.

Dean got up at the bottom of the stairs, gathering the dolls and running back up the stairs. He found the door to the backyard through the kitchen, having to turn back and pick up a doll more times than he’d like to admit.

He threw all the doors onto the ground, dashing towards the red can he assumed to be filled with gasoline. When a sniff confirmed his beliefs, he poured the light colored liquid onto the dolls. He took the little bit of salt he’d stashed in his jacket’s pocket and emptied the handful onto the pile on the ground.

He looked up as he let the lighter fall, eyes meeting with the little kid’s as he watched Dean from the second story window.

“Sorry, kid.” Dean said as the phantom withered away into flames. “Wherever you’re going, I hope it’s a better place.”

“I can’t look at it, Will.”

Janet wiped away her eyes as they stepped out into the backyard. William stroked her back, turning to Dean with a whisper.

“Wish you’d grilled the ones in the basement too.”

Dean tried not to smile as his phone rang, answering the call with furrowed brows.

“Sammy?”

“Dean,” His little brother’s voice sounded rushed, breathy. “You’ve gotta come down here asap, it’s an emergency.”

“Yeah, hello to you too dude.”

Chapter Text

Emma stood before the university, watching students as they rushed in and out in hopes of finding the man she was looking for. She followed him silently, head down and hood pulled over her head. Her legs ached wearily, she pursued her prey. The young man walked down a flight of stairs, Emma’s brows rising. 

The basement was dank and dark, Emma’s eyes rapidly searching for the young man as her hands reached for her knife. She felt hands on her shoulders, pulling her back before she had a chance to fight them. A door closed to her right, banishing her and the stranger into darkness. A moment later, a shaky hand pointed a flashlight onto her face. As she looked away, Emma came face to face with the gun pointed at her.

Emma looked into his eyes, carrying more fear than hers did.

“Finally got the chance to catch up, uncle.”

“Uncle?” He frowned. “Why did you follow me?”

“Relax, Winchester. I won’t harm you.”

“Yeah, obviously. I’m the one that has a gun to your head, you can’t hurt me.”

Emma smiled at the young man, tilting her head to the side.

“Adam, come on. You really think I can’t tell a toy gun from a real one? It’s honestly insulting.”

“It shouldn’t be, because I don’t know you.” Adam stepped away from her, the toy held awkwardly in his hands. “In fact, who are you and why do you know my name?”

“That’s not the only thing I know about you. But it’s your lucky day, I’m in a rush.” Emma stretched her shoulders, fixing her blonde hair. “Adam, is Dean Winchester your brother?”

“Are you a cop?”

Adam asked, eyeing the girl nervously.

“Would you answer me if I was?”

“No?”

Adam’s brows furrowed, Emma tried to hold in her laugh.

“Good, cause I’m not.”

“Why are you looking for Dean?”

Adam asked as he looked back, calculating just how fast he could escape the small room. Emma seized her chance, grabbing onto the boy’s jacket and switching their positions. Adam winced as his back the dirty concrete wall this time, the knife on his back glaring with the light from his flashlight.

“Yours a toy, too?”

Adam’s eyes went from the knife to Emma, the girl letting out a sigh.

“I’m starting to think you’re not the person I’m looking for, Adam.”

“Would you let me go if I wasn’t?”

“No, I’m gonna cut you up into pieces and eat you.”

Emma flashed a grin, rolling her eyes when Adam just watched in horror.

“Didn’t you- did you call me uncle?”

“I’ll ask one last time, Adam. Do you know Dean Winchester, or not? I’m just going to ask for help.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” Adam carefully pushed the knife away from his neck. “I thought you wanted to kill him.”

“Oh,” Emma mumbled to herself. “He’s still alive.”

“ This is how you ask for help?” Adam looked at the girl pointedly. “Yeah, I know him. He’s my brother, half. What do you need from him?”

Emma paused, her expression turning serious for a second.

“It’s personal.”

“You did call me uncle!” Adam’s eyes opened large, he shone the flashlight to Emma’s face. “But you’re so… grown! When did he have you, at ten?”

“What do you mean? I did not call you uncle.”

The two stared at each other in a stalemate, lit by the harsh flashlight.

“Why are you lying?”

Adam asked, brows knitted together in thought as he watched the young girl. 

“What’s it to you?” She shrugged defiantly. “Just tell me where I can find your brother, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

For all the rage she donned like a winter coat bought a year in advance, Emma could not conceal the desolation in her eyes. If a girl that young had come all the way to him, asking for help, Adam knew he couldn’t turn her away.

“Come on,” He said, putting the toy gun into his pocket and pointing the flashlight at the door. “Let’s talk in my dorm room, it’s safer. What was your name?”

“Emma.”

The girl answered, taking a deep breath.

“Come on, Emma.”

“I’m not coming to your room, dude.”

“You followed me into this basement and threatened me with a knife, Emma. If anything, I’m putting myself in danger by inviting you.”

“If you just tell me where Dean is-”

“I don’t know where he is,” Adam confessed, letting out a sigh. “I’ve gotta call him to find out. He comes around to visit me when he wants, it doesn’t really work the other way around. I don’t think my phone even has service down here, and he may not pick up immediately. Sometimes he goes hunting, or stuff. Plus, it smells dank here.”

Emma listened uncertainly, her grip still strong around the handle of her knife.

“Look, I’m not like the other Winchester’s. I don’t have a gun or knife on me, I wouldn’t even know how to use it if I had one. I couldn’t hurt a bug if I tried, Emma.”

“God, you inherited the dramatic gene.” Emma rolled her eyes, opening the door. “Fine.”

Emma followed Adam to his dorm, her weary eyes searching each corner they turned for a familiar face. Adam seemed about as weirded out by this situation as she was, helping Emma feel at least a bit more at ease.

“There,” Adam pushed open the door, allowing Emma to walk in. “Make yourself at home.”

Emma stood in the middle of the room as Adam closed the door behind them, not knowing what to do. She tensed as Adam took a hold of her backpack, the young man gave her an assuring smile. Emma let him take her bag, watching hawk eyed as he simply placed it next to the cluttered desk. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling the desk chair and guiding her to it. She sat as if lying on a bed of needles, her eyes going back to her backpack every few seconds.

“I’m gonna call Dean now,” Adam announced as he sat down on his bed, the sheets wrinkled and the bed barely made. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell him there’s someone that needs his help,” Emma thought for a moment. “Just don’t say my name.”

“Okay.” Adam nodded, suspicious. “Anything else?”

Emma shook her head, lost in thought. Each voice in her head contradicted the one before, a constant battle between fleeing or facing the truth to be fought.

Adam called Dean, waiting with the phone pressed to his ear. He waited a few rings, all the way to Dean’s recorded voice telling him to leave a message.

“Not answering?”

Emma asked as Adam hung up.

“He’ll call back, tomorrow at the latest.”

“That’s bullshit,” Emma got up to her feet. “I don’t have that much time.”

“It’s the only way of getting in touch with Dean, you don’t have any other choice.”

Adam rose to his feet slowly, leaning against the footboard of his bed.

“Then I’ll come back tomorrow morning.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay?”

The two stood silently for a moment, Emma closed her eyes momentarily before reaching for her bag.

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“You can stay here, you should .”

“I don’t understand,” Emma sighed as she slung her backpack on her shoulder. “You obviously don’t believe I’m Dean’s- that I’m related to him. What’s your motive here, why are you even helping me?”

“And I don’t understand how someone your age can be on her own, or why she’d be looking over her shoulder every other step. It’s like you’re running from something, like you’re ready to flee at any moment. But why, Emma? Who’s after you, why do you need Dean’s help?”

“What are you gonna do?” Emma snapped back, eyes narrow. “Slay them and save me?”

“No, I-” Adam’s shoulders slouched, his head tilting to the side. “I have no such power, but I could at least listen to you.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

Emma, with her shoulders wide and her head lifted up high, almost made herself believe too. Adam chuckled, his brows rising.

“It didn’t even cross my mind to pity you. All I’m thinking is that you need somewhere to stay, and that you’re refusing this place I’ve worked so hard to smuggle you into. Look around, Emma. I’m alone in a room for two. You’d be doing me a favor by staying, I’ve started talking to myself out of boredom. I could use a friend, even for just one day.”

“God, just-” Emma took a deep breath, looking around the room. “Fine, I’ll stay.”

***

Emma stepped out of the small bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around her body. She took a look around, walking further in when she saw that Adam wasn’t in the room. She smiled at the clean clothes on the spare bed, putting them on quickly. They were a bit big on her, and Adam’s taste in fashion didn’t exactly align with hers, but she was glad to wear something else after months of vagrant life.

She took her mother’s comb out of her bag, laying it down on the bed next to her knife. The state of her hair was a force to be reckoned with, she laid the small towel on her lap. She worked away any knots in her hair, returning her blonde locks to the state they had been in when she ran away from her mother’s home.

She looked up at the door, her hands reaching for her knife as she heard the knock.

“Can I come in?”

Adam asked from the other side of the door, Emma wrapped the towel around her hair as she let out a sigh.

“Yeah, come in.”

Adam opened the door using his elbow, walking in with two bags of food. He smiled at Emma as he closed the door with his foot, setting the bags on the desk.

“I kind of fucked up and forgot to ask you what you like to eat.” He explained as he unknotted the bags. “So I thought I’d get something everyone likes, burgers. And this place is a personal favorite of mine, it’s the best damn burger on earth. Come on, try it before it goes cold.”

“Alright,”

Emma stood up, Adam’s brows furrowing.

“You’re not gonna dry your hair?”

“Guess not,”

“But you’ll be sick.”

Adam saw Emma laugh for the first time, feeling a bit proud of himself. With the dirt and grime of whatever past she’d been running from erased, Adam found himself easing into the idea of her being his niece.

“Fine, do you have a blow dryer?”

Adam plugged it in front of the mirror for her, trying to make space on his desk for them to eat. He threw his books onto his bed; replacing them with burgers, fries and sauces.

Emma settled on the desk chair beside the uncle she met that very day, her face flush from the heat of the blow dryer. Adam sat on his bed, pulling the desk a bit closer to himself.

“Coke’s fine, right?”

Adam handed the girl her drink, pushing the straw into his own.

“Sure,”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

“Old enough. You?”

Adam smiled at the fugitive answer, popping a fry into his mouth.

“I’m twenty two, it’s my last year here.”

Emma nodded, taking a bite of her burger.

“If Dean’s really your dad,” Adam started, the girl’s eyes looking up to him. “Were you born when he was like… seventeen?”

“No!” Emma coughed, taking a sip of her coke. “Why are you so hung up on this?”

“It's a perfectly natural thing to wonder, makes you think.”

Adam said defensively, taking a sip with a suspicious look on his face.

“Dean was twenty eight when I was born, that’s what my mother told me.”

Adam found himself coughing this time, brows furrowed and eyes large.

“That was five years ago! That’s impossible dude, come on. You’re five ?”

“Uh huh,” Emma nodded, a proud grin on her face. “Now you’re getting it.”

“What are you?”

Adam’s eyes were narrow, searching the girl for an indicator of inhumanity.

“An Amazon.”

“Right, yeah, of course. That makes everything make sense, obviously. Amazon, who doesn’t know that?”

Emma tried not to laugh as Adam nodded, the cogs in his head not exactly turning.

“And who are you, Adam Milligan?”

“Good rhetorical question. But the answer’s a bit long, I’m afraid.”

Emma turned her eyes to the sole window in the room, watching the sun as it disappeared behind the trees in the distance. The stars had already started twinkling, the moon waiting to take the center stage like a primadonna.

“I’ve got time.” She turned back to Adam, the young man’s brows rising. “You?”

“On one condition: I tell you my story, you tell me yours.”

“Deal.”

They spilled together in their shared purgatory of abandon and flee. Neither had met someone so similar nor so different in their entire short lives. Fathered by a Winchester yet half abandoned at birth, their fathers had only brought death to their door. Their mothers had died just the same, leaving them truly deserted in this world at such young ages.

But it had been different, so different. As Emma’s light dwindled day by day, leaving her to solely survive; Adam had embraced life as it was, thriving through it all like a dainty flower growing between paving stones. 

But still, they sat before each other. United at last, they had more in common than their half blood. Adam, in his last year of college, was left alone in a room for two with no one to fill his days or nights. Emma, who had never much been in tune with her peers, had no life beside the road she ran along. They were alone, in any and every meaning of the world.

Emma found herself wondering if this was the fate of any that crossed paths with the Winchester’s. But then again, they were Winchesters.

Emma laid to her first peaceful sleep in months, lost in thought.

Adam laid his blanket on the sleeping girl and turned off the lights, going to bed.

***

Their one day of company stretched into a few, Emma growing more weary despite looking properly rested for once in her life.

By the third morning, she packed her bag and sat down on the empty bed.

“I can’t wait any longer, I have to go.”

She explained simply, Adam once again getting goosebumps at the stress in her voice.

“If you’d just stay a bit longer, I’m sure he’ll call back. This is the longest I’ve not been able to reach him, He’ll-”

“Adam,” Emma cut him off, tone serious. “They’ll find me and hunt me, and they won’t stop at that. They will hurt you too, I don’t even want to imagine what… I shouldn’t have stayed this long in the first place.”

“Okay, just- just give me one last chance, yeah? Let me call him one last time, if he doesn’t answer you can do whatever you want.”

“Okay, one last time.”

Emma nodded, watching as Emma took the phone to his ear. They waited for a moment, Adam’s stomach stirring as his hope dwindled.

“It better be life or death, Adam.”

Dean answered, his breathing rushed.

“I’ve been trying to get to you for days! Where were you?”

Emma’s brows rose as Adam spoke, her eyes large in disbelief that Dean had finally picked up the phone.

“Sam and I were in a vampire den, things escalated. We got captured, almost became vampire thanksgiving turkey. I just got into the Impala and saw my phone. You in trouble?”

“Not me, it’s a friend. It’s important, really important, I wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise. My friend needs your help, she needs to come wherever you are. Can you give me your address?”

“Alright, get a pen and paper.”

Adam gathered both from his desk, nodding as if his brother could see him.

“Alright, go on.”

He wrote the address on the piece of paper, making Dean repeat it to check.

“I gotta hang up now,” Dean sounded troubled, Adam wondered if he had gotten wounded somehow. “I’ll call you soon, yeah?”

“Take care of yourself, Dean.”

Adam heard his brother scoff a laugh on the other side of the call.

“You too, kiddo.”

Adam ended the call, ripping the address off from his notebook. He rose to his feet, the paper clutched in his hand.

“You shouldn’t go alone, Emma. What if they find you? Let me come along, I’ll try not to hinder you too much.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Adam. Running’s the one thing I know in this life, I’m alright on my own. You should stay here and study for those exams, I’ve taken enough of your time already.”

Emma took the address from her uncle, tucking it into her backpack after a long look.

“Look after yourself, and get there in one piece. Text me from Dean’s phone when you get there, okay?”

“Okay.”

Emma nodded, slinging her back over her shoulder once more.

“Be careful, Emma.”

“You too,”

Emma found a smile creeping along her lips, she rolled her eyes at the affection she so craved.

“Thank you, Adam, for everything. You were right when you said you weren’t like the other Winchester’s, you’re a good man.”

“Well, they’re not all that bad.” Adam laughed a bit. “I’ll see you again soon, after all this blows over.”

“I hope so,”

They stood silently for a moment, Adam opened his arms.

“Come on,”

Emma closed her eyes so they wouldn’t tear up, wrapping her arms around Adam.

“Goodbye, Emma.”

Adam said as they parted, he found a way of making it sound not so final.

“Goodbye, Adam.”

Emma walked out like she walked in, alone with her backpack hanging loose from one shoulder. She got on a bus just the same, settled on a window seat by some stretch of luck.

This time, she left someone behind. Someone breathing, someone praying for angels to watch over her.

Chapter Text

Dean stepped out of the impala, closing the door. He checked if he’d locked the doors, smiling as he threw the keys into his pocket.

He knocked on the door, swaying from one foot to the other as he waited.

“Oh, did I interrupt something?”

He grinned, earning a disgusted look from Sam as the young man stood before him in a towel.

“Dude, no.” Sam shook his head. “I just wasn’t expecting you to make it here so quickly. Come on, get in.”

Dean shrugged as he walked in, making his way to the living room. It looked tidier than it did last time, in fact it looked a bit too clean for a student home.

“And just so you know, I was only taking a shower.”

Sam raised his voice so that his brother would hear him, making his way to the stairs.

“Sure, buddy, whatever you say.”

Dean shouted back, leaving his stuff in the living room and heading to the kitchen.

“I’ll go get dressed, make yourself at home.”

Dean searched the fridge, the cupboards and even the drawers as he grew desperate.

“Do you have any beers?”

“Nope, no beers.” Sam said as he walked down the stairs, finally clothed. “I don’t drink.”

“Since when?”

Dean turned to him with his brows furrowed, Sam remained at the door frame to the kitchen.

“I don’t know, like forever.”

Sam shrugged, knowing Dean wasn’t even listening to him as the man turned back around to inspect the fridge. With a true look of horror on his face, Dean pulled the bottle of strange liquid out of the fridge.

“What is this thing, Sam?” He waited for an explanation, Sam only rolled his eyes. “When did you become the type of person to fill your refrigerator with green goo?”

“That’s a spinach and parsley smoothie,” Sam walked over, taking the bottle from his brother’s hands. “It’s not for kids.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s brows raised, a smile growing on his face. “Kids who get scared and call their big brother when they see a vampire?”

Sam’s expression turned sour, his eyes narrowing.

“No, I did not -”

“Oh, Dean.” Dean imitated his brother, mocking him. “I’m so scared, come save me Dean. I saw vampires, I can’t survive without you.”

“Got it out of your system?” Sam asked as he pulled a chair to sit, opening his bottle. “Now, sit down and listen to me. You already know about my friend, who I still cannot reach. Before him, three more went missing. All male and attending this university, when-”

“Whoa, wait. How many friends do you have? Wasn’t it your girlfriend that went missing? Why the hell would you call me in the middle of the night for some guy?” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. “Sammy, don’t tell me this guy friend is a boy-”

“What? No.”

Sam watched in confusion as Dean’s brows raised.

“You sure?”

“Really? Are you of all people asking me this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, buddy.”

“Just because your angel boyfriend took your kid and left-”

“You can’t have a kid with an angel!” Dean defended himself. “Nevermind, you actually can. But I didn’t, I don’t have any kids.”

Sam snorted a laugh through his smoothie, licking the green foam on his upper lip.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, leaf boy.”

For that comment alone, Sam decided he was alright making Dean uncomfortable.

“It’s just that you got so hung up on the kid stuff, but didn’t say a single word about him not being your boyfriend.”

Dean paused, like a frozen screen in real life. 

“That’s-” He stuttered. “That’s bullshit, and you know it too.”

“It’s alright, Dean.” Sam put his drink down on the table. “It’s not like I’m judging you.”

“Sammy!”

Sam rose to his feet as his brother shouted, running away from him to the hall. As he pulled his jacket on, Dean’s footsteps approached rapidly.

“I’m not, you know-”

“What, gay?” Sam turned to him as he opened the front door, brows raised. “Castiel is an angel, Dean.”

“So?”

Dean followed him, fishing his car keys out.

“So he doesn’t exactly have a gender, the body is just a vessel.”

Dean watched his little brother as he locked the door of his house, frowning.

“When did you learn all that stuff, have you been spending your night reading under your covers with a flashlight again? Is this what you do with your time now that you’ve stopped drinking?”

Sam shrugged as he walked to the car, unaffected by Dean’s mocking.

“I just listen to you.”

“No, I didn’t tell you all that stuff. I’d know if I did.”

“You drink a lot and you talk, Dean.”

Sam answered simply as he opened the Impala’s door, settling in the passenger seat. Dean paused with his hand on the door handle, a puzzled expression on his face.

“No I don’t.” Dean got into the car, starting the engine. “Where the fuck are we going?”

***

Dean followed Sam out of the faculty building, the two leaning against the hood of the Impala.

“All the victims went on a date the last night they were seen, which is something. But they’re all different girls, and I’ve found nothing on them. Just regular girls that go to your school.”

“It could be a shapeshifter?” Sam offered, tone uncertain. “Or maybe a siren, something like that.”

“Well,” Dean stood up straight. “Let’s go find these girls.”

“No, dude. You can’t do that here, like never.”

Sam watched as Dean cheerily got into the car, following him quickly.

Dean drove the short distance to Sam’s house, surprising his brother who was readying himself to give directions. Dean quickly opened the trunk of the car, pulling out a large bag and making his way into the house.

“What is that?” Sam asked on the stairs. “Please don’t tell me it’s a body.”

“Real funny, Sam.”

Dean walked to Sam’s room, setting the bag on his bed.

“Ew, get that thing off my bed.”

“It’s perfectly clean, you neat freak.”

Dean countered as he proceeded to unzip the bag, revealing two suits and two fake badges. He turned to Sam with a proud grin, raising his brows in expectance.

“God, Dean.” Sam closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I told you we can’t do that here, this is my school.”

“Just shut up and put it on,” Dean pushed the suit into Sam’s hand, grabbing his own. “I’ll be right outside if you need any help.”

He winked before walking out of the room, heading for the bathroom. He put his suit on, checking himself out in the mirror.

Sam’s door was still closed when he got out, Dean knocked not so gently.

“Sammy!”

The door opened to a sulking Sam, Dean breaking out in laughter. The suit from two years ago was barely hanging on by threads on the young man's body. Dean knew it must’ve been from Sam’s muscles, but he didn’t look all that different from a little kid that had grown out of his favorite clothes.

“Stop laughing,” Sam took a deep breath, raising his hand as much as the suit allowed. “Let’s just go and get this done with.”

“Look how enthusiastic you are, you’re practically glowing!” Dean nudged Sam’s shoulder, smiling at him. “Just like the old days, huh?”

***

Dean parked in front of the administrative building, turning to Sam.

“Wait in the car, I’ll just get the papers and come back.”

“I’m not a child, Dean.”

Sam frowned, voice monotone as he barely breathed inside the tight suit.

“Yeah, tell that to your body. It’s still growing, you’ll be living on a beanstalk by next year.”

Sam sighed, fighting a smile as it tried to grow on his face.

“Just go.”

Dean got out of the car, sending Sam triumph looks as he exited.

“Don’t even think about driving my car.” He turned back, leaning towards the open window. “In fact, keep your grubby hands off my steering wheel at all cost.”

Sam just rolled his eyes, watching as his brother walked away and disappeared into the building.

“Hi,”

Dean smiled at the woman behind the front desk, she looked roughly thirty or so. She had dark red hair that matched her lipstick, thick framed glasses over her brown eyes.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“I came on behalf of the missing person cases, four boys from the university.”

“May I ask who you are?”

Her brows furrowed ever so slightly, Dean showed his badge.

“Agent Cullen, FBI.”

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t informed a federal agent was coming, go on.”

“I need whatever files the college has on Verona Colloca, Aleera Anaya and Marishka Maran.”

The woman’ eyes opened wide for a moment, her gaze down at her lap.

“I don’t really think it’s appropriate-”

Dean leaned forward, crossing his arms over the front desk.

“I understand, I wouldn’t ask for them if they weren’t really substantial to the case. Frankly, I don’t have enough time to get a warrant. I have to get to these missing persons before they become murder cases.”

The woman paused for a moment, thinking it over in her head.

“No one has to know, we’ll just get some copies and I’ll be on my way.” He winked, offering her a charming smile. “It’ll be our little secret.”

She nodded, getting up and going into some backroom. Dean half expected her to come out with security and have him removed, but she showed up a couple minutes later with the files in her hands. Dean grinned, reaching to take them.

She kissed Dean, the man pulling away startled.

“I-” Dean raised his hands in front of himself, a confused frown on his face. “What was that?”

“Sorry, I-” She stepped away, grimacing. “I must’ve misunderstood.”

She handed Dean the files, quickly returning to whatever room she’d come out of a moment ago.

Dean, with surprise and a bit of a confidence boost, returned to the car. He clutched the files to his chest as passersby turned their heads to look at him, he eyed the crowd warily.

Sam burst out laughing as Dean got into the Impala, the man frowning.

“What?”

He snapped finally, turning the ignition key.

“Just look at yourself.”

Sam chuckled as he turned the rearview mirror to Dean. Dean took a deep breath when he saw himself, the red lipstick mark on his face blaring.

“Not a word.”

He warned Sam as he wiped it away with the back of his hand, returning the mirror to its original position.

Sam silently took the files, reading them as Dean drove to try and suppress his laughter.

“Dean!” He raised his head suddenly, eyes large. “I got it!”

“What? What is it?”

“The three girls are sharing a flat and they all recently switched to night school.”

Dean perked up at that, patting his brother on the shoulder with his free hand.

“Finally, a fucking clue.”

“You had to put your body on the line but, hey, it worked.”

Dean took a deep breath, eyeing his brother in his peripherals as he kept driving.

***

“Check out the windows.”

Dean nodded towards the boarded up windows of the house, nudging Sam with his elbow.

“Yeah,”

Sam mumbled as they reached the door, taking the dark architecture in.

The door opened before they had the chance to knock on it, a young woman appearing behind it. Her skin was as smooth and pale as porcelain, shining in stark contrast to her raven black hair as it ran smoothly all the way down to her waist. Her brows were as dark as her hair, framing her face in a thin arch. She had a mole under her left eye, her eyes dark and captivating as if they were withholding something as she looked down upon the men. 

Dean snapped out of the trance the woman’s beauty had put him in, nudging Sam as he reached for his badge.

“Agent Cullen from the FBI, this is my partner Agent Swan. We wanted to ask a couple questions about the missing guys, I’m sure you’ve heard.”

She eyed their badges, standing a bit straighter from leaning towards the door.

“I have, but I don’t quite grasp why we’re- why I’m being questioned about it.”

Her voice was soft as rose petals, a velvety harbinger of thorns. 

“We’re just questioning anyone that might’ve seen them on the day of their disappearance.” Sam cut in, catching her attention. “Not an accusation or anything, just trying to find out if anyone has seen or heard anything suspicious.”

“Alright,” She stepped aside, allowing them in. “We’ll be happy to help.”

As she closed the door behind them, Sam and Dean shared a look.

The house was lit only by candles placed haphazardly on any surface possible, the boys making their steps cautiously to avoid burning the whole house down.

“Lights are out?”

Dean pointed up at the ceiling, a chandelier on top of him. He smiled at himself, Sam standing beside him with his best poker face.

“Yes, actually.” She smiled. “We have some electrical problems, they keep going out.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Uh- what was your name?”

“Verona.”

“Yes, Verona. Agent Swan is great with that sort of thing, he could take a look for you.”

Dean patted Sam on the back, Sam turning to him with large eyes and furrowed brows.

“Really?” Verona opened her eyes large as well, watching Sam with excitement. “That would be great, actually. Come on, I’ll show you the fuse box.”

“Ah, the other girls should be upstairs.” She said, pausing to turn and look at Dean. “You could start your questions with them, and we’ll be back in no time. Right, agent?”

Dean pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing, settling on nodding as he watched them walk away. Sam gave his brother dirty looks as he followed Verona into the basement, Dean answering them all with content smiles.

Dean looked around the room, locating the stairs up and taking them.

“Hey handsome,” Dean shuddered at the top of the stairs, turning to the source of the voice. “I’m Marishka.”

The blonde woman smiled, twirling a wavy lock of hair around her finger.

“Hi Marishka.”

Dean answered her with a smile, then fell unconscious on the ground.

***

Sam sensed the girl’s movement behind him, reaching for the knife tucked in his belt as he moved away from the fusebox.

Before he could turn, he had been pushed to the wall. His knife fell from his grip, fumbling to the ground. 

“You foolish men,”

Verona rolled her eyes as she stepped closer, Sam grabbed his phone out of his pocket as a last resort. As Verona took the last step to him, Sam shined his flashlight in her eyes. 

Verona simply hit Sam’s phone with the back of her hand, sending it flying to some corner of the dark basement. She wrapped her fingers around the bewildered Sam’s neck, raising the man’s feet off the ground.

“It’s almost impressive what your tiny brain thinks you’re capable of doing.”

Sam heaved for breaths and clawed at her hand, her fangs grew out as she leaned closer to whisper.

“But you’re only as smart as an ape that learned sign language, being the best of your kind means virtually nothing next to our greatness.” 

Sam trashed as his vision turned dark, his last memory of falling onto the ground in a heap.

***

“Sam!”

Dean bellowed as soon as he awoke, blinking his eyes in hopes of seeing better in the dark.

They must’ve been in the basement, his arms bound by rope along with the column behind him. Sam was in the same state opposite him, only still unconscious. Dean thought to call out to him until he woke up too, but his mission was aborted by the voices coming from upstairs.

“Do we absolutely have to wait for the Countess?”

“I’m not doing this again with you, enough.”

The girl who had answered the door spoke, seeming higher in the chain of command than the other.

“Marishka might be right for once, you know.” A third girl spoke, sounding somewhat troubled. “We could feed and dispose of the bodies before she gets home.”

Dean found the voice ever so slightly familiar, though he’d probably be able to focus on it better without the severe ache in his head.

He reached his fingers into the side of his shoes, pulling out a tiny knife. The knife seemed smaller than the rope it was supposed to cut, Dean gave it a try anyway.

“You too, Aleera? Do you two truly think that the countess won’t find out? The moment she gets so much as a hunch, all three of us will end up just the same as those two in the basement.”

“Verona, we can’t let her toy with us forever!”

“Enough!” Verona shouted, stopping the girl from continuing her persuasion. “The Countess will be back soon, and she will decide the fates of those men.”

Sam jolted awake at Verona’s shouting, Dean leaned forward to see him better in the dark.

“Sammy, are you hurt?”

He whispered, Sam tilted his head to bare his bruised neck.

“No, if you don’t count the fingerprints on my neck. You?”

“No, if you don’t count the lump growing in the back of my head.”

Sam moved his aching body, taking in their surroundings.

“Where are we?”

“In the basement of three hot vampires.”

Dean grinned, Sam finding the energy to roll his eyes even in the most dire conditions.

“Let’s think with our brain, buddy.”

Before Dean could answer, the door to the basement opened. Marishka sauntered in through the sliver of light, standing between the two of them.

“Hi boys,”

She smiled, taking slow steps to Sam. Dean got back to working the ropes around himself, running the small knife back and forth.

Marishka lowered herself to the floor in front of Sam, one knee on the floor. She traced Sam’s cheekbone with the tip of her finger, watching the man with a hungry stare.

“Oh, how I wish I could have you right now.”

“Have me?” Sam asked, brows raising. “For what?”

Dean grimaced at his brother’s attempt for more time, Marishka let out a small chuckle.

“I don’t know,” She hooked a finger under his chin, biting her lip. “Your blood, your life, your soul. Whatever I could.” 

“Yeah, doesn’t sound creepy at all.” 

“I think you should know when to take an offer, darling. You never know when it will not be asked twice.”

Dean shrugged off the ropes, quickly pulling out his gun and shooting Marishka in the back of her head. Sam covered his ears against her deafening scream, watching in surprise as she fell to the ground. The rushed footsteps of the other girls approached, Dean passed the knife to Sam and got up.

“I told you to take their guns, Aleera!”

“Marishka was supposed to do it!”

“You left that to Marishka ?”

Dean searched the room with his eyes, finding an impressive collection of knives on the wall. They must've been used for the disposing of the bodies the third girl had mentioned earlier, coming into aid just when Dean needed it.

He took one, severing Marishka’s head from his body in a swift motion. The girl’s blood pooled quickly, dying her blonde hair red.

The basement door opened, two shadows standing in the doorway.

Dean helped Sam out of the ropes, turning to the girls.

“You…”

He mumbled, his brows furrowing.

“Good to see you too, Dean Winchester.” 

Aleera, that must’ve been her name, stood in the door frame with a dangerous glimmer in her eyes. Her ginger hair had grown much longer than the last time Dean had seen her, the first time too actually. She was the nameless girl Dean had spent all of Sam’s christmas eve party talking to, the one with an unethical ex.

Come to think of it, the second victim did seem a bit familiar to Dean.

Aleera launched herself forward, attacking Dean. The knife in his grip went flying to the other side of the room, Dean himself flying in the other direction until he crashed against the wall.

“I was thinking of giving you a visit, you know.”

Dean said as he stumbled to his feet, sliding up against the concrete wall.

Sam kicked an empty crate towards the wall, stepping on it and struggling with the wooden planks boarding up the windows.

“Shut up!” 

Aleera screamed as he once again charged at Dean, the man grabbing his gun.

“I’m sorry.”

He fired the gun, unable to stop down Aleera.

Sam struggled with the woodboards, applying his full force as Verona ran to him. The vampire pulled Sam from his makeshift step, dragging him across the floor along with the plank he was still holding onto.

Sunlight slithered in, Verona caught in the midst of it.

Aleera grabbed Dean by the neck, levitating him up in the air. 

“Aleera,” 

Dean pushed out through his heaving, his hand covering the girl’s on his throat. Aleera’s gaze only darkened, his grip tightening just the same.

His hand that had been folded behind him came away, an iron bar that had fallen during his harsh contact with the wall in his grip. He guided it quickly to the girl’s heart, using the last of his power to take her life.

Sam grabbed the bloodied knife Dean had dropped, rushing to cut Verona’s head off.

Dean held the dying girl’s head in his weak arms, refusing to accept she was long gone. She had looked at him with a betrayed look right at the end, as if she hadn’t made an attempt on his life just a moment ago. Her brows had furrowed in pain and her lips had pursed, like a bratty child denied a new toy.

“I’m sorry,” He echoed again, even though she couldn’t hear him anymore, even though it didn’t seem to matter to her the first time he’d said it. “I’m so sorry, Aleera.”

The basement door was thrown open with great force, a woman with bone white hair standing before it.

“No!” She let out a pained scream, shaking as she watched the room in horror. “What have you done to my girls, you monsters!”

The Countess was on top of Dean in his next breath, her hands wrapped around his neck. He didn’t have much left to fight with, the girl’s blood soaking into his shirt as he laid on the ground.

“You shall suffer my wrath, live in never ending agony! I won’t let you die a tranquil death, you are below it!”

Sam took the box he had been standing on before, chucking it at the vampire to get her attention. Dean took a heaving breath as the Countess stood up, now pursuing Sam in her blind rage.

Sam ran away from the vampire, drawing her closer.

Sunlight scorched her skin, turning her the same red as her daughter. She hissed in pain, trying to make her way to the shade.

Dean grabbed the wooden plank Sam had ripped off the window, charging at the Countess. He pierced it through her heart, staring right into her eyes as the light dimmed from them.

The lifeless body of The Countess fell to the ground, her white dress turning red with each minute. 

Dean took the knife into his hand once more, making sure all the vampires were dead and accounted for. Sam washed his hands in the basin in the corner, the cold water almost hurting his skin. He went to pick up his phone in hopes that it hadn’t shattered into pieces, Dean replacing him at the sink.

“Good thinking, with the window.” Dean said as he put his hands under the water. “How’d you understand it was morning?” 

“I didn’t,” Sam shrugged, shaking the water from his hands. “I just took a chance, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Dean laughed, running his wet hands over his face. “Come on, let’s get out of here before the cops show up.”

Sam nodded silently, the two making their way out of the house.

“Wait,” Dean stopped at the living room, knocking a candle over with his foot. “Learned that from an old friend.”

Sam chose not to acknowledge his mumblings, opening the door and stepping out. The Impala wasn’t parked too far, Sam leaning against the open door as Dean made his way.

“Dean,”

Sam’s brows furrowed as he took his phone from the passenger seat, Dean quickly settled into the car.

“Sam, get in the car!”

Though thinking the tenseness of his brother’s tone was weird, Sam got into the car and closed his door.

“We’ve been in that house for two days, Dean. It doesn’t make any sense, look at the date.”

“Someone’s watching us,” Dean whispered, his eyes on the rearview mirror. “Give me the gun.”

Sam reached into the glovebox for the gun, finding Dean’s phone beside it.

“Your phone’s ringing,” He offered it to Dean. “Think you left it on silent.”

As Dean’s eyes darted around nervously, Sam tried following his gaze

“Are you sure there’s someone? I don’t really see anyone.”

“Well,” Dean shrugged, starting the car. “Whoever it was, it’s gone now.”

“Gimme that phone.”

He grabbed the phone from Sam’s hands, the call already ended.

Thirty seven missed calls from Adam stared right back at him, Dean took a sharp breath as he unlocked the phone to call him back.

The phone rang once more, Adam’s name on the screen. Dean let out a painful sigh of relief, still searching the area with his eyes as he took the phone to his ear.

“It better be life or death, Adam.”

***

A couple drops of water slid down his neck, wetting the collar of his fresh shirt as Dean stepped out into the hall with his bag in hand.

“Sammy?”

Sam opened the door to his bedroom, toweling his hair as he stared Dean down.

“What?”

“I’m leaving.” 

“What?” Sam echoed himself, brows furrowing. “I thought you’d stay the night, at least.”

“I told you, Adam’s friend is in trouble. I’ve gotta get home, Sam. Adam’s asked something of me for the first time, I can’t fuck it up.” 

“Alright,” Sam smiled wearily. “But you’ll come back, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Promise, Dean.”

Dean’s brows raised at the childishness of his brother, Sam remained serious.

“Promise.” He grinned largely, then remembered something. “Oh, and before I go, I’ll leave some stuff with you so that you can defend yourself if you need to.”

“What, the phone number to 9-1-1?”

“Funny,” Dean gave Sam a mocking smile. “I was thinking of some silver bullets, some knives and a couple guns.”

“Dude, where do you even keep getting this stuff?”

Sam leaned on the door frame, eyes narrowing in sleep.

“From the dollar store, Sam.”

“Yeah, of course Dean.”

Chapter Text

Emma’s eyes darted around as she stepped off the bus, her arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to shield from the night’s cold. The station stood before him, as dull and lifeless as it could be. Passengers scattered quickly as they departed the bus, Emma following in the direction of most.

As the number of people lessened, so did Emma’s comfort. She kept walking in the same direction, looking over her shoulder with every few steps.

The taxi stand was as bright and colorful as the rest of the small town, the same yellow shade that decorated the taxis standing in front of it.

“Hi,” Emma neared the man timidly, extending the piece of paper in her hand. “Can you take me to this address?”

The man stood up from leaning on the hood of his car, furrowing his brows as he read the address.

“Get in,”

Emma opened the back door, getting into the car.

“Wanna put your bag in the trunk?”

The taxi driver said, standing in front of his open door.

“No, thank you.”

Emma mumbled, placing her bag beside herself. The driver shrugged as he settled in his seat, starting the car.

Emma watched the street lights as they passed by the trees, rare headlights lighting them back to a deep green. 

A silhouette passed the trees, Emma’s head turning with the shadow.

Unase tied into a knot in her stomach, the girl’s eyes wandered over each leaf to see again what she might’ve seen before. 

The car shuddered with a sudden brake, Emma catching herself at the last moment before she flew out the front window. Her blonde hair covered her face, her hand gripping onto the front seat.

“Don’t stop,” She warned, though it came out as a plea. “Keep driving.”

“What?” The driver turned to her, eyes large and brown furrowed. “What if they need help? Just wait in the car, I’ll get back quickly.”

Emma grabbed the man’s arm, eyes glancing over to the road.

“Please, just drive.”

The man hesitated for a moment, taking in the frazzled state of Emma.

The windshield shattered, pieces of glass sent flying into the car. Emma closed her eyes and shielded them with her arms, opening in time to see a hand wrap around the driver’s neck and pull him out of the car with great force. 

The car door opened to her left, Emma’s head turning immediately.

“Hello there,”

The amazon smiled at her, her dark hair falling over her face. Joan, whether the bob with bangs inspired her name or it was the other way around, was one of the strongest Amazons. Looking barely middle aged despite rumours of her age varying from a century to a milenia, Emma shuddered under the gaze of her dark eyes.

Emma reached for the other door, another Amazon awaited her there. Sloane, with blonde hair and an air of cockiness Emma couldn’t ever quite shrug off. Truth be told, Emma had heard the two of them were involved in her few days with the other girls, but whatever they had must’ve fizzled off long before she was born.

Sloane grabbed Emma’s arm, pulling the girl out of the backseat of the taxi. Emma’s nails slashed through the polyester fabric of the car seat, her feet kicking to no avail.

She looked up from the asphalt, a dangerous glimmer in Sloan’s eyes as she turned to the other Amazons. Emma discreetly reached for the small knife she’d stashed in her boot, hiding it up her sleeve. 

Emma counted at least five of them as she got up to her feet, an Amazon she did not recognize ran up to them as if cued. She took her knife to Emma’s leg, slashing through her thigh.

Emma let her knife fall down to her hand as she stumbled back, stabbing it into her oblivious opponent's neck and pulling it back out in an instant. The blood rained down on Emma as the woman went down, a hand grabbing the girl’s hair before she had a chance to dodge.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” Joan hissed, dragging Emma by her hair. “You think you are above the blood running through your veins, the strength we’ve given you.”

Emma hacked at the Amazon’s hand, scurrying away as Joan chucked her aside in pain. Her hands burned as she placed them on the asphalt, getting up once more.

“Enough,” Sloane kicked her down, pointing a gold plated gun at Emma. “There’s no use dragging this out, it’s already long overdue.”

Emma paused as she stared down the barrel of the gun, a ringing in her ears.

She stood up, running as her lungs burned with the cold air of the night.

A loud bang, Emma knew the sound well enough. A familiar pain burned into her back, Emma didn’t let it stop her this time.

Two more gunshots, Emma held her arm to her chest and dragged her leg on. She wouldn’t stop, couldn’t afford to slow down.

She saw the closed fist coming close to her face before she saw the Amazon, her back meeting the asphalt once more. Warm blood ran down her burst lip, the metal taste she’d grown used to filling her mouth again.

As Emma struggled on the ground, another Amazon stepped on her neck with her foot. Emma choked, coughing against the blood in her mouth. The Amazon rained punches down on her face, Emma tried turning away but failed in her grasp.

Her hands shook as she grasped her knife’s handle, thrusting it into the Amazon’s eye. The Amazon fell to the asphalt beside her in pain, Emma’s eyes half lidded as she looked over.

The Amazon standing by them pressed her foot down on the gunshot wound on Emma’s arm, the girl winced in pain.

“Why?”

She asked with her hitched breath, looking up into the eyes of the people that started and ended her life. The paved road was cold and bumpy against her back, the trees swayed in the wind listlessly. She had looked her fate in the eyes once, had managed to take it head on and crawl her way out of it. Her bloodied hands didn’t carry the strength anymore, she felt her body growing numb as it tried to stitch itself back together. 

“Just kill the idiot.” 

Sloane chimed in from the side, still eyeing Joan’s hand as the woman held it to her chest.

“Come on,” Joan smiled, lowering her hand as it healed perfectly. “Perhaps she has some last words for us, she is our blood.”

Blood spilled onto her face from the Amazon’s eye as the woman stood up to tower over her, Emma tried to wipe it away with the back of her hand. 

She grabbed the knife, pulling it out of the woman’s eye and pushing it into her throat. The Amazon watched Emma in surprise as she choked on her own blood, Emma kicked her away. She stabbed her knife into the foot on her arm, The Amazon pressing even harder upon infliction. Emma pushed the Amazon, rising to stand as the woman fell to the ground.

Another bullet pierced through her thick skin, Emma’s hand clutching her stomach as her shirt grew wetter and redder. She fell to her knees, then onto her face with another bullet.

“ Please ,” She cried, turning her teary eyes to Joan and Sloane. “I don’t want to die, I’m begging you.”

Her vision darkened under the scrutinizing gaze of the Amazons, her lids draping over her eyes.

Another bang, but this time Emma didn’t feel the pain. Her brows furrowed as she tried to open her eyes, moving her body bit by bit to turn to the Amazons.

She heard the women’s battle scream, parting her lids. She supported herself with her elbows, parting her lids and looking up. 

A bright light flooded her vision, her eyes closing as something blew up. With the Amazon’s pained screams in her ears and her eyes shut tight, she let her head slump forward and meet the ground one last time.

*** 

She knew she was shaking, though unsure whether it was from the cold or the pain. An unpleasant sensation crawled up her throat, her mouth filling with warm blood. She coughed it out, her face pressing even harder into the asphalt beneath her.

Gathering the strength and courage to open her eyes, Emma took a shaky breath. The forest stood as dark and uncaring as it did before, almost watching Emma back. Her spine shuddered as she tried rising to her feet, Emma’s hands rolled into fists as she propped herself on her elbows.

She spat out the metal taste lingering in her mouth, pushing herself to sit up.

“What the fuck?”

Emma mumbled, watching the mangled corpses of the Amazons. She grimaced at the smell, pulling her blood soaked shirt over her nose.

She managed to stand up, taking cautious steps to the taxi. The driver laid a few feet away, his head almost snapped off from his body. Emma grabbed her backpack, managing to get it on.

Red and blue lights reflected upon the green leaves in the distance, sirens sounding.

Emma made a run for it, delving into the trees. She ran parallel to the road, stepping out of the forest once she deemed it far enough. 

She shielded her eyes against the headlights, a car slowing to a stop next to her.

“Where are you going, honey?”

The old woman asked, rolling down the window of the passenger side. Emma nodded, walking away. The woman followed her reversing with the car, Emma’s body refusing to move any faster.

“I’m just trying to help.” The lady called out, Emma looking over her shoulder. “You’re not from around here, are you? I can take you wherever it is you’re trying to go, it’s far too late to be out on your own.”

Emma hesitated, turning to look at the woman. The taxi driver's snapped neck shuddered in her memory, Emma shook her head. She took the blood stained piece of paper out of her pocket, extending it to her.

“Could you tell me how to get here?”

The old woman flipped a switch on the roof of her car, the small light shining quaintly on the stained paper. The light illuminated Emma too, the woman watching her in horror.

“Jesus, are you okay?”

“I-” Emma stuttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m fine, thank you. If you could just look at the address, I’m kind of in a rush.”

The woman took a deep breath as she turned her eyes to the piece of paper, frowning as she tried to make out Adam’s handwriting against the dark blood.

“Is this- Is this Dean’s address?”

“So you do know it?”

Emma exhaled, her brows raising.

“Of course, yes.”

The woman paused for a moment before giving Emma the directions, the girl listened harder than she ever had in any class through the blood loss. 

“Thank you,” 

Emma smiled at the woman, the old lady pleased with herself to be able to help.

“I could take you there, you know. You don’t look like you’re in much condition to walk.”

“You’ve done plenty, thank you.”

Emma kept walking, the woman driving in the other direction. In a couple minutes she’d see the cop cars, perhaps even the corpses. Emma wondered what she would think, if she’d tell the cops anything about the girl she’d just seen walking on her own and covered in blood.

The adrenaline wore off bit by bit, the pain inching its way back into Emma’s body. She grabbed the guardrail, there wasn’t much left if the lady had been right. Emma clenched her teeth, steadying her trembling jaw.

One agonizing step after the other, Emma counted each colorful building she passed. 

She stood straight at last, her days long research bore its fruits.

“Winchester’s Market.”

She read the sign, letting a bitter chuckle out. 

She walked up the flight of stairs to the front door, putting her torn knuckles to it. Two knocks, she rested her forehead against the cold door.

“Dean, are you there?” She hit the door with her palms open, the wood shuddering. “Open the door, please.”

Moments passed in silence, Emma closed her eyes.

She stepped back, eyes searching the building in desperation. She neared the second floor window, pushing it up to open with surprising ease. It stopped halfway through, getting stuck on its own rusted hinges. Typical of Dean Winchester, Emma thought, just another thing he’d neglected and left to rot.

Emma sized up the opening, looking down at her own body.

She put her arms through first, looking for something to hold onto. She squeezed the rest of her torso through, her feet wiggling in the air. She landed about face first on the floor, laughing as she got up to her feet.

“God, that’s embarrassing.” She rubbed her face, pushed her air away from it. “I hope no one saw that.”

She closed the window behind herself, looking out the window to see if any neighbor's lights were on. She blinked her eyes to adjust to the dark when she turned away, navigating blindly through the house.

She found the kitchen at last, grabbing the biggest knife in the cutlery drawer. She made her way to the bathroom, not bothering to turn the lights on.

She held the knife in her wounded arm’s hand, searching the cupboards with her other one. When a first aid kit could not be found, Emma settled on the side of the bathtub. If she couldn’t get the bullets out in time, her wounds would never heal at this pace.

She climbed into the tub, tearing a piece of cloth from her shirt. She tied it around her upper arm, pulling it tight. She took one last deep breath, putting the sharp point of the knife to her half healed gunshot wound. She bit her lip to keep herself from screaming, her head tilted back resting on the edge of the bathtub.

***

Dean had driven for hours, had hours more to go. The man startled at the sound of his phone ringing, taking it into his hand as his eyes darted from the road. 

“Darlene?”

His brows furrowed as he answered the call, his elderly neighbor not usually one for late night phone calls. 

“Dean, are you back home? I can’t see that flashy car in the driveway, anyway.”

The woman’s voice was slightly shaky, along with its usual softness.

“No, not yet. Is something wrong?”

“Well, don’t panic.”

Dean cut her off, panicking.

“No offence, but you’re not really helping with that Darlene.”

“I think there’s a burglar in your house, Dean. I should- I should hang up and call the police.”

“What?” 

Dean paused, hiss mind wandering back to whoever was watching them out of the Vampire den. The thought of a monster in his home made him shudder, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. 

“Uh, Darlene. I think there’s a misunderstanding here. Could you do me a favour and not call the cops? I’ll handle it myself.”

“Whatever you say, Dean. Get home safe.”

“Thank you, Darlene.”

Dean put his foot to the gas pedal, deciding not to lift it until he saw his house or god. 

Thankfully, it was the first. He haphazardly left the car in the driveway, running up the stairs to his front door. He took the safety off his gun, getting his keys out of his pocket.

It had never once crossed Dean’s mind that the safety of his home could be tarnished, not once until this very moment. He had given up hunting, didn’t think it possible for his past to catch up on him. He tried not to think of his mother all those years ago, how her dreams had been shattered just the same. 

If he fucked this up, it would be his hands that his innocent neighbors’ blood ended up on.

He closed the door behind himself, pressing his back to it as he pocketed his keys. He turned the light on, despite the sun starting its rise.

A bloody handprint decorated the windowsill, bloody footprints leading away from it.

Dean followed the footprints all the way to the bathroom, nudging the ajar door further with his foot. When nothing jumped at him, he flipped the lightswitch on. 

His brows furrowed at the sight before him, a young girl laying in a bloodied bathtub.

“Fuck!” Dean noticed the knife in her hands, the same red as the rest of her. “Hey, little girl?”

Dean kneeled by the bathtub, a hand on the edge as the other awaited behind him with the gun. He got no response from the girl, placing his fingers on the girl’s neck.

He let out a deep breath, remembering the promise he’d made to Adam.

The girl’s eyes, in the middle of a face covered in wounds, fluttered open.

“Shh,” Dean cradled the girl’s face in his hands, trying to catch her unfocused eyes. “It’s alright, you’re safe.”

“Dean?”

Her voice was barely a whisper, her brows furrowing ever so slightly.

Dean’s body petrified, the gun in his hand now freezing cold against his skin. The voice, it had haunted him in his dreams a long time, Dean still didn’t wish to ever forget it.

“Emma?”

Chapter Text

Panic rose to his throat, hitching his breathing. Dean pulled his hands away from Emma’s face as if she had been made of fire, but the girl’s shaky hands held his in place around her face.

“Please,” She breathed out, her lashes fluttering but her eyes unable to open. “Don’t kill…”

Dean furrowed his brows, hesitating at her words.

He stood up at last, the bottom of the tub covered by a thin layer of blood. He leaned forward again, placing a hand on the girl’s back and one behind her knees. He picked his daughter up, Emma clinging weakly to him. 

He helped her lay on the bed, the girl hesitant to let go of his shirt.

“Mum,”

She mumbled, Dean placed a hand on her forehead. Dean knew a fever when he felt one, brushing the girl’s hair out of his face.

“Don’t worry, it’s all gonna be alright.”

He said more for his own comfort and courage than the girl’s, stepping out of the room.

He returned with a small bucket of water and a towel, setting the bucket down next to the bed and dipping the towel into it. Once he wrung it out, he gently covered Emma’s forehead with the towel.

His leg trembled as he waited a short while. The towel came away pink with blood, Dean dropped it back into the bucket. Dean could see a few bullet wounds on the girl, though each healing rather quickly. So the state of Emma puzzled him, surely an Amazon would be stronger. 

Dean slowly turned the girl to lay on her side, her blood soaked shirt revealing the secrets of her state. He winced, counting two at first glance then finding another one among the chaos.

He ran to his first aid kit, dumping the contents on the bed.

“This one’s gonna hurt.”

He mumbled as his fingers wrapped around the knife’s handle, he took a deep breath.

He carefully cut open her half healed scars, pulling the bullets out one by one. He grimaced as the girl writhed in pain, taking another breath to calm himself.

“I’m sorry,” He let out, the blood dripping from the knife onto his hands. “It’s gonna be over soon, you’ll be fine.”

The wounds started sealing themselves together before Dean could thread a needle or find a stapler, Dean shrugged and put his first aid kit back together.

“Please,”

Emma whispered again, practically shaking.

Dean extended his hand, stopping just shy of Emma’s face. He could feel the warmth of her fever, burning hot against his skin even without contact. He pulled his hand away, leaving the room to return the first aid kit back to its place.

***

“You alright?”

Emma heard her father’s voice before she opened her eyes, her brows furrowing as her lashes fluttered.

When she opened her eyes, Dean sitting by her side was the first thing her eyes landed on. She pulled herself up to sit on the bed, her feet dangling from the side. She took a deep breath, standing up and hurrying out of the open door.

“Leaving without a goodbye?”

Dean asked, making Emma pause for a moment.

“I was just going to the bathroom.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to try and sneak out of the bathroom.”

Dean leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed before his chest. Emma continued walking, head tilting to look through the ajar door on her right.

“It’s the first door on the left.”

Emma walked into the bathroom, flipping the light switch. Her brows rose at the bloody prints leading to the tub, and the thin layer of blood covering the bottom of it. She smiled thinking how much of a chore it would be for Dean to clean later, she turned to see herself in the mirror. 

She turned the sink on, running her fingers under the cold water. She splashed it on her face, letting it run off a pretty pink. She dabbed Dean’s white hand towel on her face, staining it red and pink just the same.

She examined her face in the mirror, just the same as any other teenage girl. Her scars were gone with no trace left behind, her skin as pristine as the day she’d been born. For once, she was grateful for her wounds to disappear, for the memories to erase.

She looked down at her body, a different shirt than the one she had set out with hanging from her shoulders. It was far too big on her, some stupid metal band’s logo on the front.

Her own jeans still stuck to her in blood underneath, she moved her legs uncomfortably as she eyed the bloodied handprint on the cupboard behind her.

She opened the door, finding Dean waiting for her leaning against the wall. Dean offered her a smile as she turned the light off.

“Would you stop treating me like some jailbreaker?”

“I’m not,” Dean kept smiling at Emma’s words, shrugging. “Just making sure you’re not leaving.”

“Yeah, so that’s exactly the same thing.”

Emma walked away, Dean still following her step by step.

“I know better than to argue with a teenager, so whatever you say.”

Emma took the living room in with her eyes, darting over each surface.

“Where’s my bag?”

She asked as she threw the cushions off the sofa, turning to Dean who stood watching her in the doorway once again.

“It’s in the bedroom.”

He explained simply, smiling almost fondly as the girl stormed by him.

Emma closed the bedroom door behind herself, knowing Dean was more than capable of opening it but hoping he would know better than to do so.

She shed her jeans off, looking at her blood covered legs in disgust. She fished her sweatpants out of her bag, a piece of paper falling to the ground along with them. Emma took it, letting a deep breath out when she saw her mother’s letter just as she had left it. She held it against her chest for a moment, then placed it back in her bag.

She put her sweatpants on, opening the door to find Dean right in front of her again. All this time she’d spent searching for him, and she hadn’t once expected this of their reunion.

Emma passed him, going to sit in the living room. Dean followed her there too, but he walked past the couch and further into the room. Emma tried not to show it as he watched the man in her peripherals, turning her ever so slightly to see behind herself.

Dean walked into the open kitchen, searching through the cupboards. He brought together a loaf of bed with a jar each of peanut butter and jelly, he placed them on the counter beside a table and a fork. He ensembled a sandvich, cutting it into diagonals. 

He looked sort of proud as he placed the plate in front of Emma, she eyed it suspiciously. 

“I-” Dean started as he sat down on the couch, cutting himself off. “How old are you?”

“What, you don’t know?”

Emma asked between offended and amused, her eyes turning to Dean.

“Would you just tell me?”

“Physically or literally?”

She raised her brows as Dean’s furrowed.

“Both, then.” She nodded. “Let’s see, my id says seventeen but you and mum made me five years ago.”

Dean stared at her in shock, then turned his head forward and nodded. Emma’s eyes darted back to the sandvich, eventually returning to Dean who so poorly pretended to mind his business.

“Oh, for god’s sake.” She opened her eyes large, Dean’s head turning to her. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

“If you’re ready,”

“Come on, buddy.”

Emma took the plate into her hands, taking a bite out of her sandvich.

“Why are you here, Emma? Why are you alone?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Emma answered as she looked away. “Nowhere else to go.”

“Your mother?”

Emma left the plate on the table, turning her eyes to Dean’s.

“Dead and gone,”

“Emma, did the people who did this to you kill your mother?”

Emma closed her eyes against the memories she thought she’d locked away, taking a deep breath as she opened them again.

“Yes, the Amazons were after us.”

“But why, aren’t you one of them?”

“You-” Emma frowned, tilting her head as she watched Dean’s confused face. “You forgot.”

“What?”

“I told you,” Emma stated in disbelief, laced with disappointment. “I told you all of this that day, the day you…”

She trailed off, too angry now to explain anything further.

“Look, a lot’s happened in those five years. I’ve just- I’ve been through a lot, okay? I’m sorry, if you could just freshen my memory.”

“Whatever,” Emma turned to Dean, shoulders slouched. “However much I hate to say it, I really need your help Dean.”

“Whatever you want.” Dean answered with determination, his eyes soft as they met the girl’s. “Just tell me what’s going on, yeah?”

“All you need to know is that I need help killing the Amazons, wiping them off the face of the earth if I have to.”

“Alright, I’ll help you.”

“What? That’s it?” Emma halted, standing up from the couch. “That’s all you needed?”

“I-” Dean smiled genuinely, Emma watching in eerie surprise. “You are my daughter, Emma.”

With a small mechanic sound, the door from the house to the market opened. Emma turned to it with her whole body, her arms before her ready to fight. Her body, however, petrified at the sight before her. 

Dean cautiously stepped into the house, his gun raised in front of him.

Emma’s eyes darted between the couch and the door, two Dean’s in front of her. 

“What the hell?”

Dean number two voiced her thoughts from the door, Emma checked once more to see that she wasn’t dreaming. Emma stepped back, on edge to attack at any moment.

“Emma,” The Dean on the couch stood up, shouting. “Get away from that man!”

“Emma?”

Dean frowned before the door, his eyes narrow as he stared at the girl.

Unable to tell them apart, Emma stood paralyzed in the middle.

“Please,” The Dean before the couch pleaded. “I swear I didn’t know they would make me kill a ch-”

His words were cut off by a gunshot, Emma ducked out of habit. She pressed her hands over her mouth to muffle her scream, watching Dean as he laid on the floor. The man’s eyes stayed on her, though the light dimmed in a matter of seconds.

Dean tucked his gun back into its place on his waist, rushing to Emma’s side.

“He was a shapeshifter,” Dean explained, his shadow cast over the girl. “The Amazons sent him to kill you. He knocked me out while I was waiting for you to wake up, he locked me in the basement.”

Emma’s eyes remained on the corpse, her vision blurring with tears.

“Emma?”

Emma blinked a couple of times, getting up to her feet. Dean took a step closer to her, she took a step back. Her hands stood open before her as she looked at the Dean on the floor.

“How did you- How did you find out?”

“I… I found you in the tub when I got h-” Dean paused, seeing the girl’s eyes linger on the shapeshifter. “Emma, look at me. You don’t have to feel bad for him, you hear me? He was a monster and he was sent here to kill you.”

Emma then knew without a doubt the man standing before her was the true Dean.

“He hadn’t even tried to hurt me.”

“Even if it wasn’t now, he was bound to hurt someone.”

“Why?” Emma looked into Dean’s eyes at last, the same shade of green in both. “Because he wasn’t human?”

“That’s not-” Dean stammered, his body tensing. “Damn it, I didn’t mean it like that!”

Emma walked away from the man with hurried steps, rushing to the bedroom in pursuit of his bag. She ran as she had her whole life, stopping to a halt as Dean appeared before the front door with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Get out of my way, Dean.”

“The Amazons are after you?” Dean asked, brows furrowed. “Why? Because you didn’t kill me?”

“Stop it,” Emma looked up into her father’s eyes, her hand tight on her bag’s handle. “Stop acting like you give a shit, just stop.”

“And how do you know I don’t… give a shit ?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Emma paused for a moment, pretending to think. “Maybe you leaving me to bleed to death gave it away, that could be it.”

“You tried to kill me, Emma.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

Emma’s lips were left ajar in surprise, Dean let out a sigh.

“Doesn’t matter now, it’s all in the past. We’re here now, let me make it up to you.”

“What does it fucking matter after all these years, after everything that’s happened? You wanted to make it up to me, you wanted to play daddy? You’re a couple years too late!”

“At least I’m trying, Emma. Look, I just learned that you were alive a couple hours ago. If I had known-”

“You should have known!” Emma shouted, eyes large and breath hitching. “You should’ve fucking looked for me, then! Like I did! I crawled from the other side of the country to you, with the Amazons on my tail! I did it because I needed you, because I have no one else left to rely on.”

She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath with her hand laying against her chest.

“And you would have done it, too. I know you would, Dean. You would have done it for him , without so much as a second thought. You just didn’t want to, not for me. I’m not even blaming you, I’m just asking you to let me go.”

“You show up at my door after years, covered in blood and beaten to a pulp. I had to pull three bullets out of you, Emma, three ! And you ask me to just let you go ?”

A bitter smile grew on Emma’s face, the girl shook her head slowly.

“Bullshit.” She spat to Dean’s face. “This is complete and utter bullshit. I don’t even need or want to talk to you anymore, I’m leaving.”

“Emma! Go sit down on that couch.” Dean hissed, feeling the ghost of John Winchester burn through his weary bones. “Don’t make me say that again.”

“Who do you think you are?” Emma stared at him in disbelief. “Don’t you dare order me around.”

“Another Sam,”

Dean mumbled as he ran his hands across his face, Emma grimaced.

Their heads turned towards the crashing sound, somewhere in the back of the house. Emma unzipped her bag and fished out her knife, Dean pulled his gun out.

As Dean took a step towards the sound, Emma grabbed his arm.

“It’s the Amazons.”

She whispered, Dean frowning at the stating of the obvious. As Emma dropped her bag on the ground, Dean stepped in front of her.

“What a brilliant display of survival skills,” The Amazon walked out of the bedroom, clapping. “What a shame it’s going to waste.”

“She’s a Winchester,” Dean grinned. “It’s in our DNA.”

Emma’s eyes darted around her view of the house, expecting the rest of the soldiers.

“Oh, don’t be so naive.” The Amazon rolled her eyes. “I’m not here to kill you, Emma. I’ve come to make you an offer, alone as a show of our good faith. If you don’t accept it, I’ll be honest with you, there is no way you or your little dad will survive the next wave of us.”

Dean’s eyes turned to Emma nervously, the girl’s head tilted as she stepped out from behind him.

“They’ve sent you to make peace with me?”

“Yes, and with a pretty good deal if you ask me. Kill your father and join us, Emma. We are ready to take you back and leave the past in the past, we are offering you a pardon.” 

She paused for a moment, eyeing Dean with judgement.

“And I’ve listened to a little bit of your conversation in the back, he doesn’t seem all that great of a price to pay. Don’t waste your life for this man, Emma. Come home to us, return to your holy purpose.”

“Alright, I accept.”

“What?”

Dean turned to her in shock, Emma shrugged.

“I mean, if you’re down. If you wanted to kill me that’s cool too, you know I don’t mind.”

“Emma, don’t.”

Dean would rather that sound like an order, it came out choked like a plea.

Emma ran away from Dean, practically launching himself on top of the Amazon in the blink of an eye. He stood petrified with his gun in his hand, watching the young girl’s knife come down again and again until it was red to the handle. 

“Emma,” He placed a hand on her shoulder, the girl shuddering. “She’s dead.”

Emma’s head turned slowly to him, her eyes shining a familiar yellow. Dean remembered it like it was yesterday, the day his daughter died. 

He watched Emma blink, returning to a shell shocked yet relatively normal version of herself. 

“I-”

She stumbled as she tried to stand up and away from the dead women.

“Are you okay?”

Dean asked, holding the girl up by her arms. She only stared, her arms remaining by her sides as Dean’s wrapped around her. He felt a bit awkward as he pulled away, though his heart was still pumping enough adrenaline for him to deadlift a car.

“Someone you know?”

Dean asked, nodding his head towards the body on the floor.

“She killed my family, my mum.”

“Come on, let’s get you sitting down somewhere.” Dean gave her shoulder a pat, watching the girl’s face in a mix of fear and sympathy. “I’ll handle the bodies, then we can talk.”

“I can help.”

Emma offered, Dean shook his head.

“You don’t need to, I’ve got it.”

“I want to.”

“Alright,” Dean let out a sigh. “Come on, then.”

They moved the coffee table out of the way, wrapping the shapeshifter’s body in the blood stained carpet. Then Dean found a tablecloth big enough for them to wrap the Amazon in, Emma rolled her disfigured body like a dutiful soldier. Dean insisted upon carrying both bodies himself, Emma fixed him a look.

“I’m stronger than you,” She looked up into her father’s eyes defiantly. “I could carry all three of you without breaking a sweat.”

“Good for you, I don’t think we’d fit in those scrawny little arms of yours though.”

Dean shook his head as he smiled, picking up the shapeshifter’s body. Emma waited in the middle of the hall with the dead Amazon in her arms, the beige tablecloth turning red and betraying its purpose.

Dean led them out the door and down the stairs into the market, Emma looked around herself half interested before they descended another flight of stairs. Dean had stopped and set the body down to acquire a key from the keychain on his belt, unlocking the door to the basement.

Emma operated blindly in the dark room, following Dean without much trust. Dean set the body down somewhere like a table, then flipped the light switch on.

Emma frowned, firstly from the light then followed quickly by surprise. The walls were covered floor to ceiling with instruments to torture monsters, libraries of strange vials and herbs taking over where displays of knives and gun ended. She watched intently, her eyes briefly passing by the two bodies on the autopsy table in the middle. 

Most peculiar of all was the large metal thing in the corner, with all the gaucheness of a vintage submarine. Dean followed her gaze, opening its door and turning a few knobs.

“That’s where they go.”

Dean carried the shapeshifter's body, placing it into the metal piece of hunk as if it was a casket.

“Shame to let such handsomeness go to waste, huh?”

He mumbled in an attempt to lighten the mood, Emma shoved the Amazon’s body into the metal coffin.

Dean closed the door with little care, pressing a button on the side.

It set ablaze like an old fashioned oven, Emma watching the glimmer in the glass door but not daring to actually look in.

“You wanna talk while they burn?”

Dean leaned on the wall, Emma’s eyes darted from the reflection of the flames at last.

“What would you like to know?”

She leaned on the table in the middle of the room, her hands grabbing its cold metal.

“What exactly happened with that… woman?”

“Why does it even matter?” Emma’s brows furrowed, her father’s followed. “She’s dead now, burnt to a crisp as we speak.”

“God, are we not gonna get anything done the easy way? If you want to make me say it, fine.” He ran his hand over his face, then looked right into Emma’s eyes. “Because I’m your father.”

Emma had a bitter snarl growing on her face, a scoff escaped her.

“Like it or not, I don’t really mind. But you’re carrying my blood , little lady.”

“Blood?” Emma asked, brows raised. “I’ve shed it all, until the last drop. All the Winchester blood and all the Amazon blood, all gone. I came here to ask Dean Winchester, the hunter, for help. Nothing more, and certainly not a father.”

“We’re being honest? Good.” Emma could see the restraint in Dean’s movement, see the man fighting himself for an ounce of control. “If you weren’t my daughter Dean Winchster, the hunter, would’ve shot you dead the moment you stepped foot in this house.”

Emma looked at Dean with the kind of weariness and sorrow someone her age shouldn’t have, the kind you accumulated with time until it piled so much it became visible like dust.

“Then shoot me, Dean. Do both of us a favor, free us of this curse the way you pulled us into it. It’ll silence those hunter instincts screaming at you, put us both at ease at once. We both know that the Amazons won’t stop until one of us is dead, I’ve got nothing left to lose. But you’ve got your brothers, right? A house and a job, a life . If one of us has to die, I’m ready to be the one.”

Dean watched his daughter’s young face as the girl walked up to him, the stubbornness of the blood she denied evident.

“I’m not-”

Emma took Dean’s hand into her own, putting his gun between his fingers. She turned the barrel towards herself, placing Dean’s finger on the trigger.

“What are you doing, Emma?”

“Kill me, I’m tired of pretending it’s not what I want. I’ve taken my revenge, I’m ready to join my mother wherever us monsters go.” She paused, managing a smile. “Finish what you started that day, don’t hesitate this time. Do me one last favor, make it painless if you can.”

“I can’t let you die, Emma. Not again, I can’t lose-”

Emma extended a shaky hand, placing it on the side of Dean’s face. The stubble tickled, but his warmth soothed Emma.

“You’ve got nothing to lose. You’re young, you’re getting your shit together. You’ll fall in love, you’ll get married, have other kids. Ordinary human kids, not monsters like me. Kids you can love, be proud of. Kids you won’t regret, won’t need to hurt. You could have a family, Dean.”

Dean’s hand trembled with the gun in his grasp, the man hesitated. 

He had been right here before, stood before his daughter with a gun in his hand and hesitation in his heart. The dejavu wasn’t a welcome feeling, the hesitation had almost gotten him killed before. 

Had it, though? Emma had every chance to kill him, with more strength than Dean could imagine tucked away in the fragile frame of a teenager. And yet she stood before him, choosing death over killing him a second time in her short life. She had been out there all these years, living the closest thing she could to a normal life with her mother by her side. Emma hadn’t once come to search for him, even with the Amazons pressing her to take Dean’s life.

He could pull the trigger, preserve the delicate peace he’d built for himself here. He could end it all, leave behind the Amazons.

Dean Winchester looked into a child’s eyes and hesitated a third time.

Chapter Text

The gun fired off, the bullet whizzing through the air. The recoil leaving the hands to shudder, both pairs of eyes left to watch the target motionlessly.

“Not bad.”

Dean shrugged as he tore his gaze from the bullet that lodged into a tree just behind the empty bottle he had propped up as the target, Emma lowered her gun in annoyance.

“Not good either.”

“Because your head’s not in it.”

“I aim for the target and shoot.”

Emma shrugged, eyeing the bottle as if it had deterred the bullet somehow.

Dean shrugged as he stepped closer to Emma, taking her hands in his own. He put her left hand in its right position, her index laying flat against the cold metal.

“Step slightly forward with your left foot, and make sure the rear sight is in the center of the target. Then shoot.”

Emma did as her father told, both eyes fluttering as she tried to take aim.

“You could try closing one eye.”

Dean tried suppressing his smile, watching Emma struggle with something he’d learned as a small child. Granted, Emma was about the same age Dean was back then, even if she did not look it.

“I can hear you giggling.”

Emma rolled her eyes, then closed one to look down the barrel of the gun properly. She pulled the trigger once more, smiling in satisfaction with the sound of glass shattering. She turned to Dean, her smile wiping away as quickly as it had appeared at the sight of the man.

“Your legs are standing too close, your balance is off.” Dean explained, brows knitted together. “Try again.”

Emma applied his advice wordlessly, shooting the glass bottles one by one. Different colors, different sizes and distances yet their fates were all the same.

“Good, if you’ve got the basics down we can get started on moving targets.”

Dean quickly turned to walk away, Emma looked after him for one moment before turning the safety of the gun on and following him.

They moved silently through the forest, only the oak leaves rustling above and beneath them.

Dean raised a hand, stopping Emma in her tracks. He motioned for her to look up, a hawk perched upon the branch of a grand oak tree.

Emma knew he wasn’t stopping her to appreciate the beauty of wildlife, she undid the gun’s safety with shaking hands.

Dean watched Emma as she hesitantly aimed her gun, pulling the trigger with equal confidence and shuddering as the bird took flight with a scream that tore through the whole forest.

“It’s okay,” He nodded, catching the girl’s eyes. “The first time’s always a bit tough, you’ll get the next one.”

“Yeah,”

Emma mumbled, following Dean further into the tall trees.

An owl followed the hawk, Emma’s demonstration of efficiency and skill just the same.

“We’ll try something on land, then.”

Dean’s shoulders tensed as he kept walking, Emma’s steps rushed to keep up with the man.

He grew uneasy as their trials drew on, his shotgun slung across his shoulder. as he fiddled with the sling.

“There,” He pointed at the skunk, standing timidly by the bark of a chopped down tree. “Go.”

Emma didn’t look back once the skunk ran off at the sound of the gun firing, leaving the bullet in the tree bark and Dean behind as she took off just the same as her prey.

“Emma!”

Dean shouted behind the girl, running after her.

He found her leaning against a tree, catching her breath with the gun clutched to her chest.

“Maybe we should try another day,” Emma tried. “I think I’m a slow learner.”

“It’s not that you haven’t learned,” Dean’s jaw tightened. “You’re not giving your mind to it.”

They stood still in silence for a moment, neither having something worth saying.

“Emma,” Dean stood up straight, whispering. “Shoot the rabbit.”

Emma stood still as well, locking eyes with the small white rabbit as it chewed on the tall grass. She swallowed against her dry throat, lifting her gun and taking aim.

The moment seemed to stretch on between the two of them, the oblivious bunny looked into Emma’s eyes without an inkling of fear.

The gunshot rang loud in Emma’s ears, white fur turning red.

Emma hadn’t pulled the trigger, she looked down at her hands.

“What did you do?”

She turned to Dean, the man slinging his shotgun over his shoulder again.

Dean walked over to the rabbit, grabbing its hind legs and holding it up for Emma to see.

“Rule one, Emma, remorse gets you killed. All these animals you can’t bear to take the life of will wither away one way or the other.”

He started walking again, Emma’s brows furrowed as he looked over his shoulder into her eyes.

“If you want to live, to survive, you have to kill. It's the law of the jungle, survival of the fittest.”

“I know,” Emma rushed after Dean, “It’s not like I haven’t killed before, I just…”

“Emma,” Dean turned to face her, the girl looked away. “If you really want revenge, you shoot when I tell you to. Because life doesn’t always give you that second chance.”

“I’m an Amazon, Dean. Pretty sure I’ll get a second chance or two.”

“So are those you want to kill. And they are stronger, older, a whole army of them against you!” Dean took a deep breath, turning his face away and closing his eyes. “Come on, we should get home before dark.”

“I want to try one last time.”

Emma’s words made Dean hesitate, but he nodded after a couple seconds of consideration. 

“But I need to do it on my own, without you there to lead the way.”

“Absolutely not, no.”

***

Dean tapped his fingers around the hood of the Impala, his arms crossed before him as he leaned against the car. He checked his watch, brows furrowing.

“Your thirty minutes is almost up!”

He yelled towards the forest, his car parked right before the front gates.

Emma strolled out from within the trees with something in her hands, lifting the duck in his hand at the gates for Dean to see.

Dean noted the bullet wound in the duck’s neck, turning his eyes to Emma.

“You didn’t cheat, right?”

“Would it kill you to trust me for once?”

Emma rolled her eyes as she opened the car door, waiting for Dean before it.

The man didn’t conceal his smile as he took the bag with the rabbit in it from the hood of his car, extending it for Emma to place the duck in.

Dean settled beside Emma in the front of the car once he placed their spoils of the day back in the trunk, starting the car.

“Seatbelt.”

He nodded to Emma, who obliged with a smile.

“Mind yourself. What are you, like forties? You won’t spring back like you used to, let me tell you.”

“I-” Dean eyed Emma, offended. “I’m just thirty three!”

“ Just thirty three?”

Emma’s brows raised, the girl pressing her lips together to keep herself from laughing.

“Of course that sounds old to someone who quit the baby bottle four years ago.”

“For your information, I never started.” Emma turned her eyes to Dean. “And those are big words for someone who’s about to start using diapers.”

“How long do you think people live, Emma, sixty years?”

Dean chuckled, turning his eyes to Emma momentarily.

“With such great jokes, I can’t believe you’re still by yourself at forty.”

“For the last time, thirty three.” Dean corrected. “And I’m not by myself, I’ve got people.”

“I’m not talking about your little Sammy, I’m talking about you being single.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And where are those people, exactly?”

Dean let out a frustrated sigh, Emma settled back into her seat.

“How about you mind your own business?”

Emma shook her head, eyes narrow as she looked at Dean.

Dean stopped the car in the driveway, getting out. Emma undid her seatbelt, quickly getting out of the Impala.

Dean closed the trunk, throwing his keys to Emma over the Impala.

“Where are you going?”

Emma caught the keys with great precision, closing the car door.

“To get our dinner cooked.”

Dean lifted the bag in his hands, the blood visibly pooled down in the bottom.

Satisfied with the answer, Emma turned to walk away and into the house.

She locked the door behind herself for good measure, though whatever could hurt her could easily kick down a door.

She got into the spare room Dean had carried her bag into, now appointed as her room for the remainder of her short stay here.

She opened the wardrobe, staring down her limited supply of clothes. Black sweatpants and a maroon henley had to cut it, anything would as long as it meant she could peel away the smell of blood off herself.

She changed into her clean clothes, placing her old ones on the desk chair to take to the bathroom later. She let her hair down, letting her fingers run through her aching scalp.

She could hear Dean’s annoyance through the doorbell ringing somehow, perhaps it was the knocking. She opened the door, Dean grinning.

“Not even a small smile?”

Dean asked, brows raised.

Emma grinned as wide as Dean had, then rolled her eyes as she went to her room. She laid on her bed, letting her body rest as she pulled her phone out. She could give Adam a text, see how the boy was doing.

She stirred awake at the knocking on the door, the exhaustion of walking around the forest the whole day having taken her prisoner. She checked her phone, about an hour had passed since she had lied down.

“Emma!” Dean called out as he walked to the door. “Get my card from the bedroom, it must be the food!”

“Okay.”

She shouted back as she got out of her room, passing the hallway to Dean’s.

“Where’s your wallet?”

“In my jacket’s pocket on the bed.”

Dean yelled before opening the door, Emma’s eyes darting around his room.

Emma found the jacket on the bed as promised, digging through its pockets for Dean’s wallet. She opened the wallet in her search for the card, her brows furrowing. She didn’t know what to make of what lay right in front of her eyes, she turned the wallet around in her hands to make sure it was the same wallet Dean used everyday.

A man's picture stood tucked away in Dean’s wallet, his blue eyes staring into Emma’s soul. She took the card into one hand, pulling the wallet closer to her face with the other.

She stood up as chattering sounded from the front door, leaving Dean’s wallet where she had found it.

“-Really alive? How?” 

She walked towards the male voice at the door, vaguely familiar but not the usual delivery boy.

“This isn’t the time-”

“Here,”

Emma cut Dean off, extending his card.

Dean turned to Emma with a gulp, Emma’s smile fading as her eyes met with the man standing right outside their door. Sam stared at her like he was seeing a ghost, though the man had been faced with ghosts more times than he’d met his own niece. Had hunted down more of them, as opposed to the one bullet he’d shot at Emma all those years ago.

“Emma?”

Chapter Text

Sam stood petrified before the sight he had spent the whole road to Dean’s place imagining, his niece Emma standing right in front of him. Emma stared right back at him, an earned accusation habitating her glare.

Dean’s eyes flickered between the two, the moment stretching into eternity between a truce and a war breaking out.

A young man walked up the steps, brows furrowing as he sensed the tense moment unfolding before him. He stood behind Sam, making the man turn around and face him.

“I’ve, uh- I brought your food but I can come back later if this is not a good time.”

“Sammy take the bags and get inside.” Dean managed a nervous smile. “Thank you, Jesse.”

Sam stood stranded in the hall as Jesse handed him the food and left, Dean’s eyes catching Emma as he closed the door.

“Where do you think you’re going, little lady?”

He turned around, leaning against the door.

“My room.”

“You can go to your room after you eat your dinner.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Emma Winchester!” Dean roared, Sam’s brows knitting together. “Sit down!”

“Emma Mayfield,” She spat as she pulled her chair, Her mother’s last name familiar beside her name. “Not Winchester.”

She settled down on the opposite side of Sam, making a show of not sitting across from him. She looked up as Dean pulled the chair beside Sam, setting plates down on the table.

“And don’t ever think you can order me around like that.”

Sam watched in intrigued horror as his brother let out a deep breath, returning to the kitchen. Dean freed Sam and Emma from the torture of sitting in a silence of their own making quickly, placing cutlery on the table and a beer in front of him and his brother.

The duck and rabbit stared back at Sam, seeming as unnerved by the evening as he did. 

Dean cut himself a piece from each, gathering some garnishes into his plate to accompany the commemorator of the nice day he and Emma had.

He paused with his fork right before his mouth, brows furrowing as his gaze rose. Two empty tables sat on the table collecting dust, Emma and Sam avoiding his eyes behind them.

He cut each two pieces of meat, then scooped some vegetables onto their plates.

“Both of you, give up this hunger strike and start eating.”

Emma met his eyes at last, face pulled taut and eyes narrow. Dean looked back, chin high and brows raised slightly.

Emma took a bite of the duck at last, Sam digging into the vegetables where they did not touch the meat.

“Eat the damn meat, it’s carbon whatevered already.”

Dean looked at Sam, who seemed more disappointed than mad.

“Dude, stop treating me like a kid, will you? You’ve got her for that now.”

“I’ll treat you like a kid as long as you keep acting like one.” Dean turned to Emma, who pretended not to have heard the two as she cut herself another piece of the duck. “And don’t think I don’t see you pushing those vegetables to the side of your plate, Emma. You’re not leaving this table until that plate is clean.”

Emma’s whole face soured, she set down her fork and turned her eyes to Dean.

“You can’t be serious.”

Dean took in their rioting and rebelling, leaning back as he took a sip of his beer.

“Try me.”

Emma let a breath out in anger, quickly bunching the vegetables into her mouth. The rabbit meat caught her eyes, she swallowed it down without much thought too. Remorse was only good to get you killed, it was the law of the jungle.

Sam considered making the meat in his plate while Dean wasn’t looking, put it back into the pot or onto Emma’s plate as she seemed to enjoy it. However he couldn’t be so certain Emma wouldn’t find a way to suffocate him with a piece of meat.

Emma stood up once her meal was finished, meeting Dean’s eyes for a split second before drawing back to her room.

“Have you checked with silver and holy water?”

Sam turned to Dean the moment he heard the door shut, his brother nodded.

“Yes, I did. She’s the real Emma.”

“And what was she doing all these years, why’s she here now?”

“The Amazons were after her, well, her and her mother. From what I’ve gathered they were running from town to town, trying to cover up their tracks and hope the Amazons won’t find them. When the Amazons killed her mother, she came to me for help.”

Sam frowned, suspicious. He turned whole bodily to Dean, leaning closer to the man.

“How did she find you?”

“She hacked the Civil Registry Office and found Adam.” Dean answered with a proud smile, taking another sip of his beer before continuing. “Remember when you and I hunted down those vampires in your school and Adam called me about a thousand times? That was for Emma.”

“Smart girl.”

Sam reached for the bottle he hadn’t touched the whole dinner, tipping his head back and attempting to drown out the voice telling him exactly why it was Adam that Emma searched for and not him.

“She was covered in blood in the bathtub when I got home.” Dean’s cheerful expression had sullied when Sam looked at his brother again. “She dug bullets out of her own body with a knife, Sam. She came to her executioner to survive, she came to me .”

“Don’t blame yourself, Dean. I was the one who shot her.”

“I couldn’t protect her.” Dean shook his head. “I didn’t even try to, I just left her to die in some shitty motel.”

“Don’t do this, Dean. Not to her, not to yourself. She’s still alive, somehow. You’ve got a second chance, a chance to change things. You could- you could still be her father.”

Dean’s shoulders tensed under Sam’s hold, Dean turned his head slowly to look at Sam.

“I’m not cut out to be a father.”

Sam pulled his hand away from his brother, brows furrowed.

“You’re gonna abandon her like dad abandoned us? What, it’s not bad enough that her uncle shot her, that her mum died?”

Dean hesitated for a moment, then laid back in his chair as his shoulders smoothed down.

“You brought any bags with you?”

Sam swallowed, then nodded.

“Yeah, in the car.”

“Let’s go get them, then.”

***

Sam pocketed his car key as Dean set the bags down in the hallway, shutting the front door.

“Where am I gonna sleep?”

Sam asked, stretching as if he’d been the one to carry his luggage.

“Right there.”

Dean nodded towards the couch, grinning as Sam’s face fell.

“You’re- You have to be kidding. I won’t even fit on that couch! How about you let your guest take the bed for the night?”

Sam stepped to move past Sam and into the master bedroom, Dean stepped in front of him.

“Not happening.” He smiled, giving the man’s shoulder a pat of consolation. “Good night, Sammy.”

Dean stopped half way to his room, the disgruntled Sam having already crashed out on the couch.

He knocked on Emma’s door, unsure what he’d say or what good could come of it. His brows furrowed when he did not get told off with a snarky remark, only the stuffy silence awaiting him on the other side of the door.

“Emma?”

He called out, waiting another moment before pushing the door open and turning the lights on.

The bed, the desk and the floor greeted him emptily. His eyes darted around the room, his hands reaching for Emma’s bedside table in panic.

Her id remained as Dean had left it, leaving only the conclusion that she had been kidnapped in Dean’s head. Dean checked each room in the house one by one, the fear in his chest only growing with every light turned on and every door closed.

“Something wrong?”

Sam stirred awake, blinking in the dark.

“No, it’s nothing.”

Dean mumbled as he stepped back into the hall, the glint of his car keys catching his eyes from where they were mounted on the wall beside the front door. The house keys’ spot, however, was empty.

He closed the door softly behind himself, cautiously taking the stairs that led down into the market in the dark.

“Emma?”

He called out once more, met with the same silence.

He searched the market, leading himself to the backroom’s door through grabbing at the shelves and displays.

He stepped into the crowded room, his eyes growing used to the dark. He recognized Emma as she laid in the dark, stirring at the sound of the door opening.

Dean turned the lights on, making the girl close her eyes and grimace.

“Dude!”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“No, what are you doing here?”

Emma asked as she blinked, acclimating her eyes to the bright lights.

“I’m looking for my dau- I’m looking for a young girl that went missing in the middle of the night.”

“Well, good job. You’ve found me, now you can leave.”

Dean sighed and wondered why Sam had ever thought him capable of dealing with, much less parenting, a teenager.

“And what are you gonna do?”

“Sleep.”

“Here?”

“Yeah, why not?” Emma shrugged. “It’s as good a place as any.”

“Emma,” Dean leaned against a high table and faced Emma, arms holding onto the edge of the table by his sides. “It’s Sam, isn’t it?”

Emma’s eyes remained on the ground, her jaw tight.

“I understand you having an… issue with Sammy, I do. But I assure you, he was just trying to protect me. He’s not a bad person and he wouldn’t ever hurt you again.”

“Does it even matter?”

“What?”

“I’m just saying, does it matter if I’ve got a problem with him? Sam is your brother, and he always will be. I’m just-” Ema shut her eyes tight for a second, damning herself for even opening her mouth. “What I mean is: Don’t worry about me having a problem, I can take care of myself. And don’t worry, I won’t be any trouble.”

“This is ridiculous, Emma. You’re getting up and going to your bed, right now .”

“You’re not my fucking dad!” Emma shouted, eyes large. “Stop giving me orders!”

“Fine, then, this is your room from now on. Let’s see how long you can last sleeping on cold concrete before you come to your senses!”

Emma halted, just staring at Dean in the soul crushing way kids did to their parents sometimes. The bare sorrow and raw disappointment, written all over their face in honesty: You fucked up.

Dean himself was a stranger to the look, but he’d seen it countless times on Sam’s face.

“I should have never asked a selfish prick like you for help.” Emma spoke, voice level and low. “What a curse it was to be born your daughter.”

“I don’t know how your mum put up with you!” Dean’s anger only rose, like tidal waves crashing again and against a rock until they splintered it to pieces. “No wonder she’s dead, I’d be too if I had to put up with you one second more.”

A snarky response didn’t follow, nor did an enraged one.

Emma stood silent in front of Dean, a hollow look in her eyes.

Dean couldn’t bear to witness it a moment longer, he turned around and left.

On his way up the stairs, he shuddered with the sound of the door slamming behind him.

Sam stood at the top of the stairs, that same look in his eyes. Only a bit more tender, a little less outraged.

“Don’t give me that look.”

Dean walked right past him, having had his fair share of arguments this evening.

“It’s like dad’s standing right in front of me…”

Dean turned abruptly, head tilting to the side as his eyes met Sam’s.

“Either shut up, or get out of the fucking house.”

Sam didn’t waste a second grabbing his jacket and his bags, Dean running after him.

“Sammy, wait!”

He shouted as the young man left the house, following him out into the cold.

Emma took her chance, sprinting up the stairs and into the house. She grabbed the Impala’s keys, and locked herself into her room.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. It’s not- I didn’t mean it.”

Dean pleaded with Sam in front of the house, their voices reaching Emma as she opened her window on the other side of the house.

“Look at you,” Emma mumbled to herself as she grabbed a jacket in the dark and put it on. “Perfectly capable of apologizing when you want to.”

She held onto the edge of the window, swinging herself from the second floor.

She took a deep breath before releasing her fingers, aiming for the bushes.

Once she dusted herself off from the dirt, she walked quietly around the house. She peeked to see Dean and Sam walking back in, and listened for the sound of the door shutting.

She got into the driver seat of the Impala, putting the key into ignition.

Dean had taught her how to drive but she hadn’t once been allowed into the open road, not in the Impala. Dean had told her it was an absolute last resort, that no one her age has any business even in the front passenger seat.

She reversed the car away from the house quickly, fearing Dean may hear the sound of the car starting and decide to kill her once and for all.

The small town roads were near deserted at this time of night, Emma still didn’t ease until she made it to the main road out of town.

She turned the radio on, hoping it may distract her.

She flinched as one of Dean’s songs came on, rolling her eyes as she searched for the button that changed the station.

Her eyes flickered between the road and the radio, pressing any button she could find.

Two figures stood a breath’s distance from the car, Emma kicked her foot onto the brake pedal. 

Emma sat in the car as she caught her breath, Dean’s music still blaring as her eyes met the things she’d almost hit.

Chapter Text

Castiel recognized the Impala, dashing through the night like a wild horse. Its black paint glimmered in camouflage in the dark, only contrasted by the light blonde hair of its driver.

The driver, who was far from the man Castiel had expected.

The young girl stared at him wide eyed, her hands gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline. 

She rushed out of the car, with hurried yet light movements. Her eyes caught Castiel’s, the familiar green against blue. A moment of recognition passed her gaze, leaving Castiel to wonder.

“Are you okay?”

She asked, her eyes flickering between Cas and Jack.

“How did this car come into your possession?”

The angel’s question furrowed Emma’s brows, the young girl still standing between the car and its open door.

“How does that concern you?”

“Answer my question,” Cas stepped in front of Emma, leaving her stranded where she stood. “What have you done to Dean?”

Emma shakily reached for her knife, something about the man promising he was far more dangerous than he seemed. Before she could so much as turn it towards the man, the knife leaped from her grip. Untouched, as if pulled by an invisible string.

Emma, for having spent all of her short life in fear, still hadn’t quite mastered hiding the emotion.

“What are you?”

She asked, breath hitched and eyes large.

The man flicked his wrist, a knife falling from his sleeve and into his hand. Had they met under different circumstances, Emma thought he might like this guy.

Castiel held his knife against the girl’s throat, ever so slightly making contact with her skin. He didn’t need the knife, of course, he knew he could disintegrate the girl with a look but a visual threat would help her grasp the gravity of the situation better.

“Answer me,” His voice was low, eyes intense as he gazed into her true form. “Where did you get this car? What have you done to Dean?”

“I didn’t do shit,” Emma shifted in the limited space she had, a desperate attempt at getting the knife further from herself. “I borrowed the car from Dean, he knows I have it.”

“And why would he let you?”

Emma felt what was left unsaid as cutting as the knife pressed against her skin, as venomous as the words forming on her tongue.

“Because,” She stuttered, her teeth clenched tight. “Because he is my father.”

A look passed through the angel’s eyes, the look of a man lied to so blatantly he counted it as disrespect. He allowed the blade to cut through Emma’s skin, drawing blood and the reaction he wanted.

Emma’s irises flashed yellow, her eyes growing maroon. The dark red spread through, like blood running through veins.

“I am an angel of the Lord, do you think a creature as small and insignificant as you can deceive me?” Castiel pressed the blade further, Emma’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “What have you done to Dean? Lie to me once more and it will be the end of you.”

“I’m not fucking lying!”

Emma tasted blood, the taste all too familiar as her eyes looked into Castiel’s.

There was something familiar in her gaze, reminding Cas of the look Jack would give him when forced to wear a coat in winter. Admittedly, the girl looked a great deal like Dean, as much as Cas didn’t want to confess.

“You are a monster.” Castiel spat, the disgust unveiled in his voice. “Dean would never…”

Emma gently pushed the knife from her neck, leaving cuts on his finger that healed in moments. She took a deep breath, allowing her neck to piece itself together before speaking.

“I can take you to him.” She offered, standing straighter. “You could ask him yourself.”

“Why would I-”

Jack stared at the goat watching them through the trees, an unnatural grin on its grim face.

“Dad?”

He called out, his voice shaking.

With an arm extended, his powers holding Emma in place, Cas walked towards Jack.

“What?”

“There was-” Jack looked back at where the goat had been, the trees now stretching out as far as the eye could see. “Never mind, sorry.”

Cas’ head tilted ever so slightly, brows pulling together in concern.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just,” Jack finally met his father’s eyes. “The reason we came here,”

“What about it?”

Cas prodded, growing the slightest bit impatient in his concern.

“That’s her.”

Jack confessed, eyes large in guilt.

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah, it was her.”

Cas stepped away with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

“We’ll look into that, okay? But later, I have to check on Dean.”

“We’re going to Dean?”

Jack beamed, a big smile on his face that made Emma wonder just what his relation to Dean was.

“To make sure he isn’t dead.”

Cas frowned, not raining down on Jack’s parade the slightest bit.

“How much longer do you plan to keep me waiting here, buddy?” Emma had crossed her arms before her chest, her gaze pointed on Castiel before she turned her eyes to the ground to murmur to herself. “Dean’s gonna kill me.”

Castiel turned full bodily, only then remembering that he’d left the girl standing there.

“You will take us to Dean, but if you so much as lie once I-”

“Yes, I know.” Emma got into the car, already reaching to turn the keys. “You’ll kill me.”

***

Dean sat in the dark in his own living room, his arms crossed before his chest and his right leg trembling in anticipation mixed with concern as he listened to the engine of his car turn off. The front door opened and closed not so quietly, he reached for the light switch as the silhouettes multiplied.

“Emma?”

Emma took in the sight of her father, sitting on the couch waiting for her in the late hours of the night as he tried to mask his concern as anger. His brows raised first, then they lowered into a frown.

“Dean, could you kindly tell these guys you’re my father and I have your permission to drive the Impala?” Emma threw herself down onto the couch, the beer she’d snatched from the coffee table in hand. “So they don’t kill me or something.”

Dean looked up into familiar blue eyes, unchanged despite all the times that had gone by. 

The blond boy behind him had grown so fast that Dean almost didn’t recognize him, but how could he forget the baby he’d held in his arms.

“Cas?”

Dean stood up from the couch, his movements jagged in shock.

“Dean, I-”

Cas closed his eyes as Dean walked up to him, anticipating a blow. Arms wrapped around him, instead. One arm over his shoulder, the other around his waist. Dean’s body held onto his like an anchor, the man’s face tilted down to press against his shoulder.

Cas didn’t need to breathe, but spending years among humans had weaved into him habits like taking a deep breath when surprised.

So Dean’s scent filled his nose, a little more cologne and a little less gunpowder, but it was still the same Dean he’d known. Still the same Dean that had taught him love, still the same Dean that had kissed him, still the same Dean he’d left.

“You’re alive!”

Dean’s voice shook as he pulled away from Cas the slightest bit, taking the angel’s face into his hands.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Catiel’s brows furrowed, his arms still hanging by his sides.

“When you didn’t answer my prayers, I thought Lucifer- I thought he got to you. Where were you all this time, Cas? I tried tracking you down, you left no traces.”

“Hey, little guy!” Emma stood up from the couch, motioning for Jack to follow her. “Let’s get some fresh air.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Jack smiled politely, making Emma let out a frustrated sigh.

“Come on.”

Emma grabbed Jack’s arm, taking them both outside as Jack looked back at Cas in confusion.

She closed the front door behind them, letting go of Jack.

“Why did we come here?”

Jack asked, watching Emma as she sat down on the stairs.

“Nevermind that.” Emma looked up at him, taking a sip of Dean’s beer. “Come, sit with me. Do you want some beer?”

Jack looked at the bottle extended towards him, eyes full of temptation.

“No, thank you. I’m, uh- I’m four.”

“And?” Emma smiled. “I’m five.”

“Jack and I have been hiding throughout Europe. France to Italy, then to England and Poland, and wherever else we could go without drawing attention to ourselves. We’ve travelled almost all of Europe to make sure Lucifer wouldn’t track us down.”

Dean stared at Cas, more disappointed than he was when Sam left for college.

“So you- you could…”

Cas could watch Dean’s delusions like a movie in the creases across his face, under the flickering fluorescent light.

“I am sorry about your prayers,”

“You’re sorry?”

Dean looked up, the delusion and disappointment taking a turn for something darker.

“I did what I had to, Dean. I couldn’t return to you.”

Not when he posed a threat to Jack’s safety, Cas couldn’t. 

“You could have given me the smallest sign of life, Cas. A single word, anything!”

Dean kicked the coffee table, sending it tumbling onto the ground.

“Three years!” His throat felt raw, set aflame but the rage ignited by his own words. “I prayed to you every day for three fucking years! I worried myself sick over you, searched the news for the smallest trace of you! I was- I was going to put a headstone in my fucking garden, just so you’d have a grave.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he took deep breaths.

“Now you’re standing in front of me, after all this time. And all you’ve got to say is sorry ? Like you accidently bumped your shoulder against mine, like it’s all some minor misunderstanding.”

“Dean,”

Cas pleaded, looking into Dean’s eyes. It had all been so easy when Dean was just a distant memory, fading with each running step Cas took away from him. He was easy to run from, then, easy to stay mad at, easy to blame. 

Cas couldn’t gaze into those green eyes, looking at him like he were the god to abandon his people, and list off all the rightful reasons he had to leave and never look back.

“I begged you, Cas. I begged you every day! You heard my prayers- you listened to them each day and just ignored it? Left me to wonder, to think the worst? I thought-”

“What?” Cas’ brows furrowed still, an accusation thrown his way silently like a letter slid under a door. “What did you think?”

Dean took one last step towards him, closing the distance between them.

“I thought you wouldn’t be so cruel, wouldn’t do this to me. I thought the only reason for you to not answer me was that you were dead or captured.”

Dean’s shoulder pressed against Castiel’s as he passed the angel, even the small touch enough to bring memories before their eyes.

“But now I see, I was wrong.”

The man slung his jacket from his shoulder and left, leaving Castiel to shudder when the door slammed shut.

Dean paused by the front door, extending his hand to Emma.

Emma rushed to her feet, searching through her pockets.

“You coming back tonight?”

Emma asked as she left the car keys in the palm of his hand, looking into his eyes frosted over with rage.

“Don’t wait up.”

Dean answered simply as he descended the stairs, getting into the Impala and driving away as soon as he could.

Emma sat back down, a dreary heaviness in her movements. Jack followed her eyes off to the horizon, finding nothing worthy of a stare.

“You alright?”

Jack bumped his shoulder against hers gingerly, putting a smile on the girl’s face.

“Yeah, of course.”

Castiel stared at the door, half hidden from his point of view, and stood still in the middle of the room. The coffee table was still upside down beside him, like a turtle left on its back.

Sam slithered through the ajar door, just standing there for a moment to study the angel under the fluorescent light. Cas looked every bit holy, only a bit more worn down than the last time they’d seen each other.

“Hi, I- uhm, I’m Sam.” He approached Cas gently, like stepping up to a wild animal. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at- at Bobby’s funeral.”

“Yes, I know.” Cas turned his blue eyes to the young man, expression unreadable. “You are Dean’s brother, Samuel.”

“I’ll take it the two of you butted heads.”

“He did.”

Cas answered simply, with his eyes off to the side as he likely recalled their encounter.

“Yeah, that sounds like him.” Sam chuckled lightly as he perched upon the sofa’s armrest. “Dean can sometimes be a little…”

He trailed off, a thousand words swimming through his mind.

“Wrathful, unbound, ruinous-”

“I think that’s enough.”

Sam interrupted the angel, an uncomfortable chuckle escaping him.

“He’s only this angry because he cares about you, because he thinks of you as family.”

“This is no way to treat the people you care about. I haven’t been on this earth as long as you have, but I have seen people, I’ve seen them care and love. Whatever Dean feels isn’t either of those things, Samuel. I’ve only tolerated it because I care for him.”

Sam examined the tightness in Cas’ jaw, unsure if he had truly known everything that came to pass between his brother and the angel.

“I know he’s got a short temper, but it’s only because he cares for you. He’s- Dean’s not exactly good with his feelings, or words. It may not seem like it but this is how he shows he cares, I don’t think he’s ever known any other way. It’s what he thinks family is supposed to be.”

“Family?”

Cas’ brows raised, if only a little judgmentally.

“Yeah, you gonna wait for him?”

***

Sam looked out the small window, the lights off in the house.

Emma sat on the stairs still, unmoved by the hours passing. 

“I’ll handle it.”

Cas rested his hand atop Sam’s shoulder for a brief moment, then made for the front door.

Jack and Emma’s heads turned in unison to look at him, Emma’s turning back as soon as their eyes met. Cas tilted his head a bit, Jack scooting to the side to give him space. 

He settled between the two kids, one arm around Jack’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you cold?”

He asked the young girl, who only stared ahead.

“No.”

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

“You two can go, I think I’ll stay.”

The silence stretched out into thin air, the three of them left to sit and sink in the unrest.

Jack worried whether either of them would ever speak, or if they would simply sit there on Dean’s front steps and watch the sun rise and fall. He couldn’t speak a single word to warm the two to each other, any interference would only put them further apart.

“Emma,” Cas broke the silence at last, the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck standing up at hearing her name from the angel. “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” Her eyes remained on the road, right beside where she’d parked the Impala hours ago. “Threatening me with a knife or calling me a monster?”

“All of it, I only-”

“For the love of god!” She stopped the man, reddening finger coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Don’t worry, I’m not new to all this. A monster like me being his daughter doesn’t exactly make sense, I get it.”

“That’s not what I-”

Emma turned her head swiftly, holding Cas’ gaze for a moment. Those same blue eyes she’d looked into, the man she’d wondered about, sitting right beside her but Dean too far out of either’s reach now.

“Don’t feel guilty.” The corner of her lips lifted into a smile. “Why should you, when he feels just the same.”

Cas turned his eyes to the road, Emma’s gaze too heavy for him to hold. He tried holding his tongue, to act against his brutal honesty like Dean had told him over and over again.

“Then why are you still waiting for him? Why aren’t you running away?”

“You’re wrong.” Emma answered a little too quickly, as still as stone. “I’m not waiting for him, I’m just getting some fresh air. Besides, I’ve got a seven foot reason not to go inside.”

“I am,” Cas mumbled, then he sat up a bit straighter, finally turning to Emma again. “I am waiting for him.”

“You’re just wasting your time, then.”

“Why is that?”

Emma smiled for a moment, a bitter smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Cause he’s not coming back.”

Emma didn’t need to look at the angel to sense his confusion, she drew a deep breath.

“Everything he cares about, he took with him.” She explained without the usually accompanying gloom and distress. “His car and his guns. There’s also his little brother, but I’m sure Dean will call him in a few days and let him know where he is.”

“And you?” Cas questioned, brows furrowed. “Dean’s not the kind of person to leave his daughter behind, he cares about family.”

“Yeah, but I’m not- I’m not family .” She paused, swallowing against her dry throat. Then she smiled, almost fondly. “But you are, so maybe he’ll come back for you.”

Cas found himself smiling, it must have been long since anyone but Jack had made him smile. The gesture almost felt unfamiliar on his lips, he hugged his son a bit tighter.

“How do you know?”

Emma watched the man for a moment, strikingly handsome even in the odd lighting of Dean’s front porch. 

“You have to promise to keep it a secret.”

She stared at the angel expectantly, her gloom leaving its place to amusement.

“I swear on my life.”

Emma chuckled at how seriously Cas answered, then she leaned forward a bit.

“You too, buddy.”

“Oh, yeah, I promise.”

Jack nodded enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling as he awaited the secret.

“He carries your picture in his wallet.”

Emma watched as Cas turned away, flustered. She caught Jack’s eyes, the boy’s brows raised in bemusement.

Emma rested her head against the railings, the three of them watching the empty road in silence once more.

“Are you truly certain he won’t return?”

Cas asked, voice low.

“Are you gonna stop waiting either way?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Cas’ lips, he let his head fall forward for a moment.

He wrapped his wings around the kids, draped across their shoulders as the three of them sat together in wait.

The sliver of light coming from the front door illuminated Sam’s weary eye, watching the three of them stare off into the night.

Chapter Text

With the first of the sun rays reaching them in faint lines of warm light, Cas looked over at Emma. The girl had her head resting against the wooden railing, eyes closed and breathing steady. He picked her up, the girl stirring but not waking from her sleep.

Jack opened and closed the door for them, following his father as if he might leave at any moment too. He waited outside Emma’s room as Cas laid the girl down on her bed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed before him. Cas closed the door behind himself, turning to Jack with a weary look on his face.

“I need to go downstairs for a bit, can you wait for me here?”

Jack nodded in response, Cas stroking the boy’s hair before turning away. He took a few steps towards the front door, then paused and looked at Jack over his shoulder.

“Do not use your powers.”

“I know dad.”

Jack sighed, a smile working its way onto his face either way.

Sam stood up from the couch abruptly, almost startling Cas as he rushed to the angel’s side.

“Dean’s back.”

He informed the angel in a hushed voice, leaning close.

“Yeah,” Cas nodded. “Three minutes ago.”

Sam’s brows furrowed in surprise, his head turning ever so slightly.

“How did you know?”

“I heard the Impala pull into the driveway.”

Cas answered, reaching for the doorknob.

“Do you know where he is now?”

Sam gently took hold of his arm, stopping the angel.

“His car.”

“No, he’s at the market.”

Cas’ brows knitted together, his blue eyes growing distant for a moment.

“I sense him below, he must’ve returned.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. 

“ His market.” Sam explained with a smile. “It’s downstairs, you can go down those stairs instead of the front door, it’s easier.”

“Thanks.”

Cas mumbled before disappearing, leaving Sam to stare at his absence with a confused smile.

“How are you this tall? ”Jack asked from where he still stood beside Emma’s door, head tilted to the side. “I’d like to be tall like you.”

“I, uhm-” Sam thought for a moment, caught empty handed. “God made me this way?”

“Oh,” Jack’s brows rose in excitement. “You believe in God?”

Dean stepped up the ladder, holding cans in one hand while holding himself steady with the other. He placed the cans on the highest shelf, using a bit more strength than strictly necessary. 

“Dean?”

The voice startled him, his knees buckling for the slightest of moments. His hands reached for the shelves, ultimately too afraid of pulling them down with himself.

Cas caught him, arm wrapping around the man’s waist. Dean found himself lying against Cas’ chest, the back of his head resting upon the familiar shoulder. 

His head turned out of instinct, finding himself staring right into those blue eyes. As inquiring, as hurt as he’d left them years ago. But not as naive, not at all confused. 

As Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas’ lips, his throat grew dry. Only a breath away, the angel could see it written on his face.

The man stood up straight, stepping away from Cas.

“New rule,” He announced, breathing short and fast. “No touching.”

“I am under no obligation to obey rules.”

“You’re an angel,” Dean sent him a brief judging look. “Following rules is practically in your job description.”

“Yes,” Cas nodded, a faint smile despite the sharp look in his eyes. “ God’s orders, not men’s. ”

“I guess you’re right,” Dean sighed, though an animosity remained in his gaze. “It would be too much to expect from the angel that disobeyed God.”

Cas paused for a moment, looking the faintest bit troubled as he stared right through Dean.

“Perhaps,”

He mumbled, Dean expected him to go on for all of a moment before giving up with yet another sigh.

“What are you doing here, Cas?”

Cas looked around, then shrugged.

“Whatever people do at a market.”

“Except you’re not human, are you?”

Dean’s brows raised, a pleased smile on his face as he stared the angel down.

“Yes, I am an angel. Which means I may roam wherever I choose in God's universe.”

Cas paused for a moment, brows furrowing.

“Not hell, though. I do have my limits.”

“I thought you went into hell to… grip me tight and raise me or whatever.”

“Yes, and look what it’s done to us both.”

Cas looked weary as he said it, his voice too soft to be lying or jeering.

“You know what? Whatever.” Dean took a deep breath. “Roam to your heart’s desire, I don’t mind.”

Dean walked away from the angel, opening a door towards the back of the market and walking in.

Cas stared at the closed door for a moment, brows furrowed.

“Jesus!”

Dean startled as Cas appeared in the small room, closing his eyes.

“A market?” Cas questioned as his eyes darted around the room. “You opened a market?”

“Shut it, angel.”

Dean raised his hand, a pissed off look on his face.

“Angel?”

Cas mumbled to himself, somewhat offended. He looked around the semi dark office through narrow eyes, recognizing some of the stuff on the shelves.

Some were common household items, sure. But some were undeniably and collectively for a specific purpose.

“Why do you have so much hunting gear?”

“You-” Dean looked around the room, his head whipping from left to right. “How do you know that?”

“I’m a hunter myself.”

Cas turned to Dean, a proud grin on his face.

Dean frowned as he leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed before his chest.

“Why’s that?”

Cas looked right into Dean’s eyes for a moment, as if he’d answer the question earnestly with a long monologue. Then, he simply turned his eyes to the shelves. Dean stared at him, intrigue he tried hard to put out flaring up once more in his chest.

The phone rang, a vintage tune left to Dean from Bobby. Dean walked around the table, picking up the red handset.

“Oh,” His brows raised in delight. “You’re coming now?”

Cas picked up a bottle from the shelf beside him, turning it around in his hand as he pretended not to pay attention to Dean’s voice and movement.

“You know they’re always ready, just for you.”

Dean chuckled, looking up from the desk.

Cas looked over at the sound of Dean’s laugh, meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, man.” Dean looked away quickly. “See you soon, yeah.”

He placed the handset back on the red phone, licking his lips as he stepped away from behind the desk.

He walked over to Castiel, perhaps a step or two left between him and the angel. He extended his arm, leaning closer. With three bottles of clear liquid and a pouch in his grip, he walked away.

Once behind his desk again, he pulled open a drawer and got a paper bag. He placed the bottles and the pouch into the brown paper bag and folded the top.

The market’s front door chimed open, Dean leaving the bag on the desk and leaving the office without so much as a look sent the angel’s way.

Cas peeked through the half open door of the small room, watching Dean pull the man into his arms.

The man was perhaps a few inches shorter than Dean, of Asian heritage and a muscular build. His hair was dark save for a few grays at his temples, the only indicator of his age. As they pulled away, Casitel could see his five o’clock shadow. The sleeves of his navy blue shirt were rolled up, his white undershirt peeking out at his chest. They exchanged a few words out of his earshot, then Dean abruptly turned around with a pat on the man’s shoulder.

Cas stepped back immediately as they headed for the back office, making Dean smile once he was out of the man’s eyesight.

Dean strolled into his office beside the man, settling into the chair behind his desk.

The man looked at Cas for a moment, the corners of his lips curving into a smile, before he took a seat on the chair in front of Dean’s desk.

“He’s found you at last, huh?”

Dean looked over at the angel, then scoffed dismissively.

“Turns out he wasn’t lost, after all.”

A moment of silence settled in the somewhat dark room, Randy’s brows furrowed with questions he knew better than to ask Dean.

“Well, your order’s ready.”

Dean offered the man the paper bag, just to have a change of subject.

“I know your mum was the reason I became a hunter but you’re the reason I’m still going, Dean.” The man joked as he took the bag into his hands. “If you were somewhere a little less deserted I might’ve made it to six wendigos.”

Dean laughed, shocked that the man found a way to mention the wendigos even now.

“How about we get started on those beers, Randy?”

Dean reached into the mini fridge under his desk without awaiting a response, Cas walked out of the room without awaiting the rest of their conversation.

***

Dean’s arm stretched along the man’s back as they walked towards the door, his hand gently hanging from Randy’s shoulder.

“Nothing on the Amazons?” Dean asked as he opened the door, letting Randy through first. “Even the littlest bit would be so useful.”

“Jesus, I almost forgot.” Randy stopped in front of the front door, turning toward Dean. “Someone back in Colorado saw a large group in some gas station, barely managed to escape with his life and car.”

Randy paused, eyes meeting Dean’s as his brows furrowed.

“If you’re in trouble,” He said, the words leaving his lips in a deliberate slow pace. “I can stay for a while, you know, help you out of whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Thank you, Randy, really.” Dean gave the man’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “But it’s nothing a Winchester can’t handle.”

“Alright,” Randy nodded. “You call me if you need anything, and try not to get yourself killed.”

“You too.”

Dean mumbled as he wrapped his arms around the man, a brief embrace that ended as soon as it started. 

Dean watched as Randy walked to his car, got in and drove away. He let out a sigh as the motor sound left his ears for good, Randy truly gone.

“You searched for me?”

Cas had a soft smile on his face, his lashes fluttering.

Dean almost jumped as he turned around, barely keeping himself composed as he laid eyes on Castiel.

“Yeah, pretty sure I mentioned that somewhere in the thousand fucking prayers I sent your way.”

Cas stood motionless as he laid against the side of the stairs, except for his eyes returning to Dean’s.

“What quarrel do you have with Amazons?”

“What do you have against minding your own business?”

Dean scoffed, rushing back into the market. Cas trailed him as he made his way to the office, the skirts of his trenchcoat flailing.

“I could help.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, turning around.

“Help? I am not some damsel in distress, angel. I can handle my own fucking problems, I assure you.” His brows were furrowed, eyes full of fury. “We aren’t close enough for me to want or need your help, anyway.”

Dean slammed the office door behind himself, Cas’ brows knitting together on the other side.

“And whose fault is that, Dean?”

Dean stepped away from the door as if he could get away from the sound of the angel, sending an empty beer bottle crashing against the floor in his pacing.

“Fuck!”

He shouted, head between his hands as he watched the glass shatter into pieces. Irrevocable, broken with just one simple move. It lay at his feet, the fruits of his efforts and the penance of his sins.

Castiel ascended the stairs slowly, like at any moment Dean would come back to stop him. When he finally made it into the living room, he settled silently beside Sam as the young man stared at his computer like the thing had cursed his entire bloodline.

“Is he always this aggravating?”

“He is an asshole most of the time,” Sam chuckled as he turned his eyes to Cas. “What’d he do this time?”

“Asshole?” Cas sounded so serious that Sam feared he might have to explain the meaning of the word to the angel or endure a lecture from him. “You are funny.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Do you know why he’s after the Amazons?”

Sam faltered, his eyes escaping the angel’s gaze.

“Yeah, I do. But if Dean didn’t tell you, he must have his reasons.”

“I could, if I so wished to do so, take a look into your memories and find it out for myself. You do know that, right?”

The angel’s expression was one of utmost earnestness, his gaze holding Sam’s. Sam swallowed, eyes wide as he stared at Cas. 

“It was a joke,” Cas let out a sigh, an offended look on his face. “If Jack were here he would’ve laughed.”

The angel mumbled the last part to himself, gaze cast towards Emma’s room.

“Yeah, sure it was funnier in Enochian or something.”

Sam nodded, unsure what else he could say.

“I want to help.”

The angel turned to Sam again, meeting his eyes in determination.

***

“Absolutely fucking not!” Dean waved his hands in the air, just to make a point of how much he disagreed with the notion. “Not if you ask a million times!”

“We need his help, Dean.” Sam tried reasoning, standing before his brother in the living room. “No matter how strong we are, how much we fight. At the end of the day, it’s just regular humans against the amazons.”

“As much as it pains me to say this,” Emma said from the couch, sitting with one leg over the other. “Little Winchester is right, we need them.”

Sam’s brows raised in pleasant surprise, a smile discreetly growing on his face. Dean turned to Emma, brows furrowed and eyes narrow.

“Didn’t I tell you not to get out of your room?” His eyes searched the room, returning to Emma in the end. “And where’s Jack?”

“Yeah, he’s still in the room.” Emma gestured towards her room, where the two of them had been put in while the adults discussed the matter. “Didn’t want to go against his father.”

“I- I can’t believe you are worse at listening to your father than the literal antichrist , Emma.”

Emma rolled her eyes, if a little amused. Cas turned to Dean, a finger pointed at the man in accusation.

“Don’t talk about him like that!”

Dean raised his hands in surrender under Cas’ murderous gaze.

“Okay, sorry.”

“It’s okay Dean!”

Jack shouted from within the room, making Emma chuckle.

“I will aid you in battle.”

Cas said decidedly, along with a small nod.

“I said-”

Dean started again, only to be cut off by Cas.

“I will do it for Emma.”

Cas looked right into Dean’s eyes, Emma watching the two with a smile she poorly concealed.

“Oh, you’re close to my daughter now?” Dean spat, holding Cas’ gaze with eyes as opened large like a madman. “What’s next? Are you gonna abandon her on a random fucking wednesday too?”

Cas’ brows furrowed, blue eyes pointed on Dean as his head tilted to the side.

“Really? Three years! Three years have passed and you still can’t admit your faults. Here I was thinking you’d changed, you’re still the same immature child.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s brows raised, like a matador challenging a bull. “At least I’m still myself, you turned into a-”

Dean stopped himself, eyes turning to the ground as his chest heaved.

“You weren’t like this,” He said at last, voice raw like the words were clawing their way out of his throat. “You’ve changed .”

“What does that mean? You don’t care for me anymore? Why ?” Cas’ eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them. “Because I’m not the naive angel you met once? Because your words aren’t as good as orders to me anymore? Because I don’t obey you as I once did God? Or is it because you aren’t the only being in my life, my whole life, the center of my universe, anymore?”

“No, it’s because you fucking left me!”

“The arrogance!” Cas’ voice raised beyond the usual monotone they’d grown used to, the room shivering as the audience to his wrath. “I left you? Is that what you tell yourself? To ignore what you’ve done to push me away, to make me run and not look back! You put a gun to Jack’s head! You tried to kill him, he was just a baby !”

Dean stood petrified, no words left in learning that Cas knew of his darkest moment. He could feel Sam and Emma’s eyes on him, in shame and judgement. 

Cas watched guilt fill every inch of Dean’s face, yet it was still not enough. Was it the guilt of what he’d done, or not? Did Dean regret holding his gun to Jack, or not having pulled the trigger?

“Guys,” Sam intervened at last, breaking the silence in fear of the two of them breaking each other first. “Fight all you want if and when we get rid of the Amazons, but this is not the time.”

Dean averted his eyes from Cas with a sigh, the angel’s wrath too much to bear.

“Yeah, we’ll talk later.”

“Alright then,” Sam cleared his throat, eyes glancing across the other three. “The three Winchesters decide whether or not the angel fights with us.”

He saw Emma parting her lips in his peripherals, he let out a defeated sigh.

“The three of us will vote.”

He corrected himself before she could, Emma nodded with narrow eyes.

“You know my vote.” Dean answered simply, voice raw still. “No.”

“And I vote that he comes with us.” Sam spoke with a bit of hesitance, shoulders pulled tight. “Emma?”

“I vote for…” She paused, her eyes meeting the defeated ones of her father. “For Cas to not come with us.”

As Dean watched his daughter with the closest thing to pride he could muster at the moment, she turned to the angel.

“Sorry, Cas.”

Cas nodded as he settled beside Sam on the couch, a small smile festering his lips as he gazed upon the young girl.

“Do not be,”

Jack stared at the phone in his hands, the pop-up ad staring right back at him.

“Your maker has abandoned you.” The message on it read. “Come be one with your real God in the satanic church! Call 666 for further information!”

His brows furrowed, closing the whole app as if the ad would jump out of his phone. Left uneasy with the chances of such an ad finding him from millions of people, he paced into the living room as the Winchester’s worked on their plan.

“Can I come in now?”

He stood at the doorway, eyes on his father.

Sam didn’t so much as look up from his computer, Emma only smiling from where she sat.

“Yeah, buddy.” Dean answered in place of Cas, Jack turning to him curiously. “Go sit with your dad.”

Jack walked into the room to do as he was told, brows knitted together in thought.

“Why did no one ask me if I wanted to fight?”

“No.”

Cas and Dean spoke in unison as they turned to Jack, the boy sitting down with an outright frown.

“Why?”

“Because…” Dean faltered, thinking for a moment. “Because you’re little, too young.”

Cas seemed at ease then, the smallest of smiles ghosting his lips as he sat beside his son.

“But Emma’s going,” Jack pointed a finger at the laughing girl. “And she’s only a year older than me.”

“Jack-”

Cas started, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder, only to be cut off by Emma.

“Not to be mean but I’ve been fighting the rest of the Amazons since I was two days old. I’ve got home turf advantage.”

“That’s not fair,” Jack sighed. “I’ve fought many monsters.”

“Yeah, well. Life’s not fair, Jack.” Dean shrugged from where he stood behind the couch Sam sat on. “You’re not coming, it’s final.”

Sam looked up from his laptop for the briefest of moments, meeting Jack’s eyes empathetically.

“Maybe next time, Jack.”

Jack turned to his father in protest, the support he searched for missing from the angel.

“I’m going to sleep.”

Dean announced as he left the adjacent kitchen, beer bottles in hand. Sam eyed him with concern, Emma’s brows raised.

“What?” Dean looked at his brother over his shoulder as he walked to the door. “It’s good for sleep.”

“That’s not-”

Sam’s judging was cut off by Emma’s enthusiasm once more.

“In that case, I’d like one.”

Emma smiled sheepishly at Dean, who turned around fully to shake his head at her.

“No, none for you. You’re a child.”

“I’m seventeen.”

Emma shrugged, Dean stared at her with narrow eyes.

“Yeah? I remember making y-” Dean’s eyes met with Cas’ across the room, he held the cold bottles close to his chest. “I distinctly remember you being born five years ago, and anyways, seventeen ain’t that old either.”

“Funny, I remember you making a bet on whether you could down a whole bottle of Jack at once when you were much younger than that.”

Sam said without looking up from the screen before him, a satisfied smile on his face.

“That-” Dean took a deep breath, annoyed at having to deal with the two of them at once. “That has nothing to do with the subject at hand.”

Sam took a sip of his celsius, giving up with a sigh.

He directed his eyes back to the screen, not giving up as night gave way to day. Cans and cups littered the coffee table as the morning turned back to night, Sam unwilling to step away from his laptop. His eyes burned, itching to close. The veins had turned visible, an aching red. He focused on the job at hand, passing another day by. He searched for something, anything, that may lead them to the Amazons. A security camera recording, a missing report, an unsolved murder of the ritualistic kind.

Forty eight hours later, he looked up. Weary and on the brink of collapse, but with a smile on his face.

“Guys, I’ve found them.” His voice came out coarse for not having talked in so long. “I’ve found the Amazons, they’re in Kansas.”

Chapter Text

Dean pulled the heavy steel door open with a grunt, flicking the light switch open.

The lights fluttered into life, revealing the decked out basement.

“I’m batman.”

Dean mumbled to himself, a cocky grin on his lips.

Jack smiled in amazement as he took the room in, Sam shook his head in disappointment.

“I’ve been wanting to ask,” Emma sounded as she perched on the counter like she did the first time she’d stepped foot into the basement. “How did you manage to get all this stuff into here?”

Dean parted his lips to answer, Cas turned to him with a question and wandering eyes before he could speak.

“Did no one in the neighborhood notice the sounds while you built it?”

Dean hesitated, brows furrowing in thought.

***

Sam placed his beaten backpack by the front door of the house, letting a sigh out as he took a moment to just look at it.

Then he turned around, shoulders slouched, and headed to his brother’s room.

He pushed the handle down, gently pushing the door and poking his head in.

“Dean?”

“Just five minutes,” Dean looked up from his almost packed backpack. “I swear.”

“That’s a blatant lie,” Sam smiled fondly as he closed the door behind himself. “But that's not why I came here.”

Dean stuffed the last of his belongings into the bag, zipping it up.

“Sammy?”

Dean regarded him with a nod as he placed his bag at the foot of his bed, his forehead creasing.

“We need the help, Dean, we’re walking straight into death like this.” The words came out of Sam’s mouth on a tense string, his eyes going puppy mode. “And it’s not doing anyone any good to act like-”

“We’re not going over this again, Sammy.” Dean sighed, his jaw tight. “Besides, I’ve got something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sam faltered, then, the words he’d gathered in hopes of changing his brother’s mind dissipated.

“Alright, what is it?”

Dean’s eyes were like those of a hawk’s, his gaze intense on Sam as he spoke.

“If I don’t make it out of this alive, If it looks like we won’t make it out of this alive.” He paused for a moment, struggling to push words out of his mouth. “I’ll stall the Amazons while you take Emma and run, okay?”

“Dean-”

“Let me speak, man. If anything happens to me, I want you to look after her.”

“You’re not dying, and even if you did, I couldn’t take care of Emma on my own. I mean, she can’t even stand being in the same room as me and I don’t exactly blame her. I- I can’t do it without you, Dean.”

Dean put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, looking into his brother’s eyes.

“You can, and you will. You’ve always found a way, you’re the smart one.”

“I’m not sacrificing you so Emma and I can live.”

Sam shook his head, lip quivering. Dean opened his arms, pulling his brother into an embrace.

“Come on, Sammy.” He whispered, voice shaky. “You’re the only person I can trust.”

His lungs must’ve hollowed at that, for Sam found himself unable to breathe for a few moments. He reluctantly peeled himself away from his brother, taking a stumbling step back and giving a stout nod.

“Okay.”

He mumbled before leaving the room altogether, lingering by the door for just a moment.

Dean’s eyes lingered by the door long after his little brother had left, just a little kid yesterday and now almost as tall as the door he’d walked out of.

Dean had always been his brother’s keeper, spent his whole life keeping Sam out of harm’s way. He’d cooked for him when hungry, clothed him and washed him when he couldn’t himself. He’d cared for his brother when sick, took him to school and waited for him afterwards. He’d done more than most parents, with far less than they had. He didn’t look back at it sourly, see it as his childhood sacrificed for the sake of his brother’s. No, when he looked back into the past he only pitied them both. He only wished he could do even better for his little Sammy, the brightest boy he’d ever met. He wished he could’ve truly been his father, for a moment, then his thoughts strayed to his own daughter and the boy he had the opportunity to become a father figure to.

He looked into the living room, left empty by Castiel that morning, as he dropped his bag next to Sam’s.

His brows furrowed at the voices coming from Emma’s room, his brows furrowing as he stepped closer to listen intently.

“So that’s what you angels have,” Emma said, slow and amused. “Are they all this long or are you special or something?”

“I’m a nephilim so it’s a bit different, uncle Gabe said his was the longest, only second to Archangel Micheal.”

“Can I touch it?”

“You can hold it, if you want to.”

“Cool-”

“Emma?” Dean barged into the room, eyes wide. “Jack?”

Emma and Jack looked up at him, an angel blade between them on the bed. Jack was as surprised as Emma was annoyed, Dean shook his head in disbelief of what he’d thought just a moment ago.

“I- Uhm…”

Dean stammered as Emma took a hold of the blade and inspected it, nodding her head in approval.

“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you?” She sent Dean a chastising look. “Knock!”

“Okay, little lady. I promise to, next time.”

Emma extended the blade to Jack, the boy held it by its sharp side as he took it back.

“Are you gonna say something or did you just come here to stand by the door and gawk?”

Jack absentmindedly pushed the blade back into his sleeve as Emma chastised Dean, the man standing up a bit straighter as he turned his eyes to the boy.

“Jack, buddy, could we talk for a bit?”

Emma’s brows furrowed instantly, Jack looking up in surprise.

“Okay.”

With a little tilt of his head telling Jack to follow him, Dean turned around and headed for the market. 

As they descended the stairs, Dean could hear Jack humming a familiar tune. Mockingbird, he recognized it, just as he’d sang to the boy when he was a baby.

Dean turned to look at him over his shoulder, brows furrowing.

***

They didn’t so much as exchange a word until Dean stopped before the sweets aisle and offered Jack a chocolate bar, leaning against the railing of the refrigerated cubby.

“Come on,” He turned his weary eyes to Jack, the boy just lingering tensely by his side. “Have a seat.”

Jack sat beside him, staring at the chocolate bar in his hands.

“Did I- Did I do something wrong, Dean?”

“No, Jack. No, of course not.” Dean shook his head, caught off guard. “On the contrary, I did something wrong. Something horrible, actually.”

“What?”

Jack turned to him, tilting his head in confusion like his father used to.

The grudge his father had rightfully held, the guilt Dean would take to his seemingly soon grave did not cross the boy’s mind. Dean felt even more shame at his innocence, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“You fixed my eyes, you helped me when you didn’t have to. But I was blinded by fear and fury, that day in the forest-”

“It’s okay, Dean. A bullet wouldn’t kill me.”

“It’s not okay, Jack.” Dean let out a sigh. “I didn’t know that at the time, and just because it couldn’t kill you doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. I mean, you were just a baby. You should be mad at me, furious, actually.”

“Colossians 3:13, forgive as the Lord forgave you.” Jack smiled as he looked into Dean’s eyes, as kind as a fairy tale princess. “I forgive you, Dean. Now, forgive yourself so that we can all go on with our lives.”

Dean stared in awe at the boy before him, so understanding and mature for a boy his age.

“Cas was right,” He gently patted Jack’s shoulder, smiling back at last. “You are a great kid.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Dean.”

“Dean!”

Sam’s shouts reached them from all the way upstairs, Dean’s brows rising.

“That’s the last call,” He pointed his finger up, standing up. “I better get going.”

Jack stood up as well, an earnest look on his face.

“I’ll be here, waiting for you guys.”

“Then I’ll see you when I get back, kiddo.”

Jack watched as Dean turned around to leave, the hopeful facade melting away to reveal a man who knew he was facing death.

He ascended the stairs quickly, Jack pocketing the chocolate as he turned around.

“Why did you hide?”

Cas didn’t bother opening the closed doors of Dean’s office, appearing right in front of Jack.

“I missed the right time.”

***

The Impala halted to a stop in the deserted forest, its headlights off. Dean turned the keys and stopped the engine, turning first to Sam in the passenger seat then to Emma who had her arms crossed in the backseat.

She just reached for the car door, fingers wrapping around the cold metal of the handle.

“Emma,”

Dean stopped her, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling a small pistol out. He extended it to her wordlessly, still facing ahead as he caught her eyes in the rearview mirror.

“You know,” Emma smiled softly as he took the gun. “Most dads' first gift to their daughters would be a stuffed animal or doll.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time.”

Sam shut his laptop closed as he looked up from its screen.

“They’ll be at the forest road in approximately five minutes.”

Emma slung her small bag by her shoulder, stepping out of the car unceremoniously.

“Emma,” Dean interrupted his daughter once more, looking out of his car window. “Be careful.”

“You too, Dean.” She leaned a bit closer, an arm against the Impala’s door as she looked in through the open window. “You don’t really have to, Sam.”

She winked at Sam, smiling as she stood upright. Sam had a mirroring smile on his face, Dean leaning out of the car window to call out to Emma as she walked away.

“That’s your uncle, young lady!”

As Emma ran, the wind brushing her hair and her bag jumping up and down with each step, the wind carried her father’s words into her ears.

She had been born a fighter, with a destiny and strength to match. Yet she had lived a fugitive, running to the edge of the world. Her world, perhaps. Her life, a small smudge on the face of this enormous world. 

She hadn’t abandoned her fate fully, she’d fought back against whatever stood in her way. She’d been marked by the amazons, shot by her own uncle, she’d been stabbed and beaten more times than she could stand to remember.

Still, she stood on her own two feet now, walking into her destiny. One last time, she would battle, on her own terms. And if she were to lose, she’d be happy to die trying. 

But if she won, if she ended glorious and victorious, Emma would be granted a life. A life to live out like everybody else, with a family that fit together like pieces from different puzzles and mundane problems. With laundry and taxes, a father and a home.

She concealed herself within the trees, crouching on the ground with her bag next to her.

Soon enough, the headlights appeared. She detached a grenade from her belt, holding her breath as she waited for them to get close enough.

She pulled the pin, the cars a breath away from her.

“One, two, three…”

She released the bomb onto the paved road, to explode mere seconds later under the Amazons’ car.

The heat caressed her face, as welcoming as it was oppressive. The fire reflected on her pupils as it rose, a proper explosion. The car tumbled down the road, nothing but a ball of fire even the Amazons couldn’t make it out of.

She stayed low to the ground, she rushed to the other car.

She pulled the pin, counted to two, then threw the grenade.

As the second car went up in flames, the sound of bullets whizzing through the air accompanied the sound of its explosion.

She released her breath, Dean and Sam were there.

She felt the small metal against the back of her head, petrifying in place.

“Stand up.”

The Amazon ordered, Emma obliged. Hands raised in the air, movements slow in fear.

“Walk.”

The gun dug into the back of her head, not enough to bruise, just enough to be a reminder and a show of power.

Emma walked, with the Amazon behind her, out of the woods and onto the road.

“Show yourself!” The Amazon yelled, an arm wrapped around Emma’s shoulders to keep her in place. “Get out and put your weapons down, or I’ll shoot her!”

Dean and Sam looked at each other, a weary defeat upon their shoulders as they stepped out together. They did as they were told, desperate and helpless.

They laid their weapons on the dirty asphalt, raising their hands in the air.

The woman fired her gun, their eyes growing.

Emma’s brows knitted together, her eyes turning to her father.

Then, Dean watched his daughter fall to her death once more. Her eyes never closed, ever so accusatory on Dean.

The same green as his, the same green it had been when he first lost her.

Emma didn’t hurt, she didn’t feel cold, she didn’t think anymore.

A fitting end to a soldier born to battle, valhalla as her birthright.

“Emma!”

Dean screamed as he launched forward, held back by Amazons he couldn’t recall being anywhere near him before.

He tried to reach his daughter, to hold her one last time. To whisper into her ear how much he’d loved her, how he hoped she’d go to heaven.

But monsters didn’t go to heaven, and Dean Winchester was no father.

Sam tried to do something, anything. Help Emma, or fight the Amazons, even console his brother. But he was detained, trashing against the many powerful hands that kept him down.

Dean broke free of their hold, stumbling towards his daughter with bated breath. Many wounds they’d inflicted on him, his blood a red trail behind him.

He fell to the ground, his knees against the hard road. Someone kicked him, a foot on his back crushing him down. He still reached for Emma, still just a hair’s width from her.

“Dean!”

He heard Sam’s screams, struggling to turn his head towards his baby brother.

A knife slashed through Sam’s neck, the young man coughing up blood with his brows knitted together and his eyes full of tears.

A bellow rose deep from Dean’s chest, something primal and desperate.

His daughter and his brother laid dead just a few steps beside him, soon he’d join them.

Light, so bright it burned his eyes.

Light, so bright Dean could only close his eyes against it.

Light, so bright it must’ve been the beacon of help, an angel’s selfless prayer.

As his aches subsided, his muscles stitching themselves back together and his bruises fading from his skin, he fluttered his eyes open.

He looked into blue eyes, familiar and comforting.

“Cas?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Emma?” Dean tried to raise his head, to look around. “Sammy?”

“I-” Cas held him in place, looking into his eyes solemnly. “I couldn’t save them, I’m sorry.”

He helped Dean stand, the man looking around at the massacre.

The Amazons were mangled remains of their former selves, much more a tube of paint cracked open to paint the streets red than once living beings.

“Jack!”

Cas shouted, turning Dean’s eyes away from the grim scene and to the young boy as he walked backwards out of the woods.

“No,” Jack shook his head, eyes shutting tight as if the man before him would disappear. “You’re not real.”

“I’ve been searching for you, son.” Lucifer spoke with a level of ease that evoked disgust and unease. “Together at last, won’t you give your old man a hug?”

He opened his arms, taking one step forward for each time Jack stepped back.

“No, not now… you can’t…”

Jack mumbled to himself, looking over his shoulder at Cas and Dean.

“It’s too late, boy.”

Lucifer grinned, a darkness settling over his gaze.

People enveloped in red cloaks walked out of the dark woods, standing in a large circle barricading any and every way they had out of there.

“Leave them alone!”

Jack stepped backwards once more, Lucifer followed him. A red cloak was quick to fill the gap Lucifer had left behind.

“Jack!”

Cas called to his son, Dean’s eyes growing large as they darted around the cloaks.

“Janice, Billy?” He asked in horror, their faces dimly lit by the streetlight and the burning cars. “Randy?”

Everyone that had lived in this town, anyone that had so much as stepped foot in it, stood before him. Turned against him, at the devil’s beck and call.

Jack had turned to them at last, walking towards the two of them with Lucifer grasping his shoulder.

“I applaud you, Castiel, what a grand victory! Are you at least impressed by the show, Dean?” The devil looked at them both with excitement bubbling up in his features, then turned solemn. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? You’ve hardly got the time.”

He smiled, extending his arm over Jack’s shoulders and pulling the boy close.

“Maybe you wanna… kiss and make up? We don’t mind waiting, really. Me and my son, we’ve got all the time in the world. Don’t we, Jack?”

He pulled the boy close, into something that might’ve resembled an embrace if it held even a drop of affection.

“Come on, Dean!”

Jack’s eyes turned to the man, who stood helplessly.

What could he, a mere man and not a good one at that, do in the face of the devil?

Lucifer lifted a hand, narrow eyes pointed at Dean

Cas stepped before him, disappearing into nothing in a way Dean knew the angel wouldn’t come back from.

Dean’s eyes stayed on the ground, right before his shoes, where the angel had been a moment earlier. Another casualty in their neverending war, the angel that had gripped him tight and pulled him out of hell no more.

“Cas,”

He sobbed, choking against the air in his lungs.

Jack screamed as he raised his hands, eyes wide as he turned to Lucifer. He seeked revenge, maddened by grief and desperation.

A silhouette stood at the edge of the woods, tall and dark. It raised its arm, the undeniable glint of a gun reaching Dean’s eyes.

A gun, pointed at Jack.

He ran, standing before Jack. He heard the gun go off, he felt Jack turn to hold him.

Time passed slower than he remembered it had last time, the hellhounds had torn into his flesh in a split second and sent him to eternal suffering in the very next one.

But the bullet tortured him, each moment a tantalizing realizement of his demise. He stood tall, still. He put on a brave face, for Jack. 

He heard the snap of a finger behind him, Jack’s hands disappearing from his shoulders. He heard the boy whisper into his ear, the hairs at the back of his neck standing.

“Wake up!”