IMPORTANT NOTE: This story was posted before, so it might seem familiar to some readers. It had 40 chapters when it was taken down, and I took it down so that I could do a mass edit of the entire story. If you did read the story before, you'll see a lot of familiar scenes and dialogue but there are many changes as well. So please read carefully. If you are a new reader, ignore all of this and happy reading!
Words Fly: Since this is an edited story, I will be posting updates as I finish editing each chapter. This story is mostly told through Emma Motley (OC) and Sam Winchester, so there are regular POV switches. I also don't like giving things away, but I will list the main pairings just in case anyone hates them and would rather not read: Emma (OC)/Michael, Sam/Gabriel, and Dean/Cas.
This chapter mentions scenes from the end of Season 5, but the story goes completely AU after Season 5. For anyone who likes knowing what the OC looks like, Emma's face claim is Kat Dennings.
Summary: Emma meets legends and gets turned into a chew toy. Sam is slightly awkward and laughs at inappropriate moments.
Edited Post Date: 24 June 2019
Word Count: 5500
When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you
With the hounds of hell comin' after you
I've got blood, I've got blood on my name
Blood On My Name by The Brothers Bright
•X•
CHAPTER ONE
EMMA MOTLEY'S GUIDE TO BADDIES & EXORCISM 101
19 MARCH 2010
EMMA
"Shit, sorry!" Emma Motley tried to get her right foot back under her and started tilting farther to the side. She was prepared for the fall coming her way when a strong hand clamped down on her elbow, and wide dark eyes blinked up at her rescuer as she was set to rights.
"You okay?" The deep voice was warm and not in a hurry, like most people that knocked into her. Emma flashed her best smile at the concerned tone and craned her head back to get a good look at the guy. The very nice-looking guy, she realized. Shaggy brown hair that looked soft to the touch, gorgeous hazel eyes that were made up of all kinds of pretty colors, legs that went for miles and had to put him at six-four, and stacked. They didn't make 'em like this every day.
"Getting better all the time." A look of recognition dawned in his eyes at her husky tone, and she smiled again as the barest hint of a blush touched on those sculpted cheekbones. Whoa, she seriously needed to get laid if she was waxing poetic about cheekbones.
"I didn't mean to—"
"Don't worry about it, sugar. I'm the one with two left feet. Best accident I've had all week."
After a quick pat just to see if his chest really was as firm as it looked, Emma sauntered off. She walked right out of the overly packed bar, across the dark parking lot to the RV camp next door, and right into her big beautiful home on wheels. She'd known hunters that lived from motel to motel, ones who lived in RVs, and a few who had converted vans into something more livable in the long run. She respected them, she really did, but she had gone a different route. Not long after she started hunting on her own, she bought an extremely cheap school bus and fixed it up so that she could live a little comfortably while killing boogey monsters. The outside had been painted a dark green because the bright yellow had hurt her eyes, and she had gutted the inside. Now, as she walked down it, she could smile at her little accomplishment. At the two couches, all of the counter space, a metal sink, tiny stove, refrigerator, pantry, bathroom with a standing space for a shower, shelves behind a door, and her bed was at the back of the bus. Which was where she dropped down and got comfy after flipping a lamp on that was bolted above the bed.
With her soft mattress and big fluffy blanket cushioning her ass, she reclined back against the surprisingly soft mountain of throw pillows and took a look around at all of the pretty pictures pinned up on the opposite wall. By pretty, she meant gruesome. Gruesome didn't always mean difficult though. All in all, it was a pretty simple salt and burn. There was a pissed off spirit terrorizing the local haunted house, and Emma knew right where the ugly bitch was buried. The only problem? A town festival was being held in the street right in front of the cemetery. It was about how her luck went these days. (What was that saying her mother used to mutter whenever something went wrong? If it wasn't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.) The lovely townspeople should be cleared out before sunrise, but that wasn't enough time to dig up a body and burn it before the townsfolk started their day.
The only thing left to do was chill until the following night, which meant she could actually catch a little shut-eye if she wanted. Alternatively, she could get in some recreational reading. She hadn't really had time to read just for the hell of it lately, and time was of the essence.
THE NEXT NIGHT
"What the hell is this?!" Emma froze, with her shovel still raised over her shoulder, and pasted on a cheery smile. She was standing in a dug out grave, holding a shovel, and she'd been caught just as she reached the coffin. Just how the hell was she going to bullshit her way out of this one?
"It's you!" a different voice yelled. Huh, so she'd been caught by two guys.
"Well, hey there, sugar! What brings you here at this time of night?" The tall stranger with poetic cheekbones from the bar bent down and slowly stood up with her container of salt in his hand.
"Same thing as you, I guess." He had a small sheepish smile on his face that made Emma's insides quiver, and for once, in a good way. Toe curling good, even. She so needed to get laid. (It was too bad those days were over.)
"Wait, you're telling me this little girl is a hunter? And how do you know her?" Dark eyes moved from the tall one to the shorter, but no less prettier, man beside him.
"This is the girl I told you about, from the bar last night," the handsome stranger explained.
"The one you stepped on?" Emma was focusing on the task at hand, but she could hear the humor in the other man's voice.
"Yes, Dean, that one." That tone was full of exasperation, but it was a little fond too.
"And you're really a hunter?" the short one, Dean, asked.
"No, I got into necrophilia about two years ago. It's a serious addiction. I'd try therapy, but I don't think I could handle prison." She'd kept digging while the two guys talked, and she'd cleared the sides of the coffin.
"She's joking, right?" Dean asked in a too-loud whisper.
"Yes, she's joking." The taller one paused and then looked down at her as she worked on popping the coffin open. "Right?"
"You think necrophilia is funny? You guys are sick." Emma tossed the shovel out of the deep hole and wiped her hands on her dirty shorts. "Toss down the salt, would you?"
"Need any help there, Tinkerbelle?" Oh yeah, Dean was full of jokes.
"Just tell me how hot my ass looks in the firelight." She could hear loud laughter over the sound of burning bones, and she twisted around to pop her aching spine. She moved up onto her tiptoes to grip the edge of the hole she was in so she could crawl her ass out of the grave, and two strong hands gripped each of hers. She pretty much floated out of the grave and attempted to knock off the clumps of dirt clinging to her clothes after she was standing on solid ground again.
"What kind of hunter wears shorts and flip-flops?" Dean asked. The shorts were dark green, loose, and stopped right above a pair of bruised looking knees. (Fucking werewolves, man.) The flip-flops were black and looking a little worse for wear. Probably not the best attire to wear in March, but who cared? It was unseasonably warm in the south and if she was going to be digging up graves, she was damn well going to be comfy.
"One that likes being comfortable. Makes running a hell of a lot easier too. I can just kick them off and go. So, now that I've done your job for you, what are you going to do?" she asked as she looked between the two. They really were abnormally tall; her neck was starting to get a crick in it just from having a conversation with them, and she took a moment to curse her short height as they exchanged a quick glance.
"Grab some food and head back to the motel, I guess," Dean said and shrugged.
"Would you like to come with us, uh… sorry," the taller guy trailed off and flashed a smile down at her.
"Shit, I never formally introduced myself, huh? Emma Motley, at your service." A slim and dirt-covered hand hovered in front of the taller of the two as she waited, and a moment later a large hand wrapped around hers and gave it a good shake.
"Sam Winchester." The dusty lightbulb in her head made a quiet ping! as she looked between the two. Huh, it must be her lucky night. She burned the bones before the ghost could come after her ass, and she was meeting legends.
"Holy shit! The Winchesters? I was starting to think you two were a myth, but Bobby never did seem like the lying type." Emma was looking back and forth between the two brothers, but they looked normal enough to her. They were prettier than most hunters though.
"You know about us?" Sam asked first.
"You know Bobby?" Dean asked immediately afterwards. Emma slowly looked between the two again and nodded her head in the affirmative.
"Yeah, Bobby's the one that eased me into the life. I still call him when I can, but I haven't seen him since I started out on my own." Emma smiled a little as she thought of the older hunter. She owed Bobby Singer more than she could ever repay; she needed to give him a call, once she was out of town.
"Why don't we fix this back up and talk about it later?" Sam asked and looked around. Right. The last thing they needed was for someone to walk up and ask why a grave had just been dug up.
"Sounds good to me. That cool with you, Deano?"
"Sure, Tinkerbelle."
An hour or so later, Emma found herself seated at a small table in a small motel room with two massively stacked hunters. Well, maybe massively stacked was pushing it a bit. She had to look at it objectively though. Little Emma was only a solid five feet in her bare feet, and the short one was six-one. Yeah, the short one. Emma had some muscle tone, buried under some placating curves, but these dudes just looked strong and like they could kick some serious ass. She looked like a pot-smoking college freshman, on a good day. Or so she'd been told.
Speaking of the strong-looking cavemen… Her bacon burger was delicious, but it was a little hard to focus on the greasy goodness with two dudes staring at her like she was munching on baby toes. Emma gingerly put the burger back into her fast food bag, sucked up a big gulp of soda, and crossed her arms under her chest.
"Alright, what would you like to know?" The two brothers exchanged a look, and she waited to see which one would kick-start the inquisition.
"Anything that you feel comfortable telling us," Sam said with an earnest smile. Geeze, the guy was like a big puppy. And Emma really wouldn't mind giving him a tummy rub. No, wait, focus!
"Well, for starters, I'm not big into threesomes, but I've been feeling a bit more adventurous here lately." Dean barked out a laugh, a sharp sound in the small room, and then pulled himself back together.
"For real, who are you?" Dean asked.
Emma flicked through all the recent hunter gossip and tried not to sigh. Dean was the older brother, and the one that just recently returned from Hell after making a deal to get Sam's life back. (It was a story that she'd had problems believing, but too many hunters had told the same story so she knew there was some truth to it.) Caginess was to be expected, even more so than usual. Hunters were suspicious by nature, it was how they survived, but Emma had always tried to be open and honest when she could. She dropped her arms to drum her fingers on the table and met both their eyes.
"If you want to look me up, my whole name is Emmaline Grace Motley. I turned twenty-four at the beginning of this month, and I've been a hunter for the past seven years. Curious about how I got started?" It was the most common hunter meeting story. Have a shot of whiskey, slowly drink a beer, and spill your guts about why you were hunting the things that go bump in the night. Her job was so depressing.
"At seventeen?" Sam asked.
"Most hunters start out younger than that; most grow up in the business, like you two if the gossip's right. Those that aren't born into it normally crash land into the life, right? Well, that's me." She paused to reach up and tighten the ponytail her long brown hair was in, one of her nervous ticks, and blew out a breath as she looked up at the ceiling. "There were a few deaths in my hometown caused by freak accidents, but I didn't really think anything of it. Even when my step-dad died after falling down some stairs at work. It was just some horrible accident, you know? Then the night before the funeral, I heard some weird bumping noises and went to check it out. Found my mom hanging from the ceiling fan in the living room. By the time Bobby showed up, Mom had stopped breathing and I was having a full blown panic attack in my sister's room."
"Your sister?" Sam asked. Sam's hazel eyes were full of sympathy, but Emma couldn't read Dean. The distrust was strong in that one.
"She was one, so she doesn't remember anything. Bobby got into the house, saw what had happened, and called the cops. I knew that something wasn't right, after I pulled myself together. When I tried to help my mom, something that I couldn't see threw me against the wall and held me there until she stopped breathing. I begged Bobby to take me with him. I wanted to find what killed Mom. Bobby said I had a determined look in my eye, and that's why he took me along. Said if he didn't, I probably would've gone out on my own and gotten myself killed. He's not wrong." Emma took a moment to smile as she remembered the older hunter smiling fondly down at her as he told her that she was a damned good hunter, despite only hunting for a few short months at the time. "Turns out it was a witch going after some committee thing my parents were on. Just one angry old woman that knew enough witchcraft to kill people."
"What happened after that?" The question came from Sam, and it looked like Dean was trying to decipher the secrets of the universe as he stared at her.
"I stuck with Bobby for about six months and then he introduced me to a couple more hunters. Once I got the hang of things, I struck off on my own. Been that way ever since."
"What about your little sister?" Dean asked. Huh, so maybe Dean was trying to find all the secrets of her universe. The hard stare made her shift in her seat even as she started to answer his question.
"Ava is eight now. She got adopted almost immediately by this family out in California, the Rays. She's playing softball this year, and she made the honor roll," Emma said with a touch of pride in her voice.
"You keep track of her?" Emma tensed as she looked away from Dean's green eyes to look over at Sam.
"Of course. She's my baby sister, she's all I have left in this world. I've always kept track of her." That was part of her ritual. Go on a few hunts, check in on Ava, rinse and repeat.
"Does she know you?" She could feel Dean still looking at her, but she didn't look away from Sam as he asked the question.
"No. She was so young when everything happened, and she's better off not knowing. This way she can live a normal life." Okay, yeah, she could hear the gooey sap in her voice but it couldn't be helped. Ava was the brightest part of her shit-filled world, even if the kid didn't know her name.
"Ah, crap. We forgot dessert in the car. I'll be right back." Emma blinked and Sam was gone. Huh. Apparently having such long legs really could be handy.
"Is he okay?" Emma asked and looked over her shoulder at the motel door.
"He's fine." When Emma turned back to face him and raised a brow, Dean huffed and reluctantly continued. "We were pretty young when our dad got into the life, so normal wasn't something he had growing up. Probably wishes we had dumped him somewhere and let him be normal."
Emma resisted the urge to glare at the elder Winchester and bit her tongue to keep from correcting his word usage. Ava hadn't been dumped anywhere. She'd been given to a safe home. Emma had heard the rumors surrounding the Winchesters though, something about Sam being the antichrist, but there were a few things that she knew for sure. Their mom had died when they were both really young, and their dad became a hunter to avenge her. Growing up in the life couldn't have been easy, and Emma was sure that the brothers had seen things that would give even normal hunters nightmares. So it was a little hard to stay angry at Dean.
"Eh, I thought it was the best thing for her. I was only seventeen and living off of anger. It's no environment to raise a kid in," she said in a light tone.
"Yeah, yeah, now what are you hiding?" Dean's stare was sharper than any blade, but Emma resisted the urge to fidget.
"Hiding?" Emma asked with her most innocent smile. They kind of looked like big lugs, but there was some serious brain power hiding behind those thick looking skulls.
"You're holding back on something. I can tell."
"Straight up honesty?"
"Straight up."
"Ava was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor three hundred and twenty-one days ago. The doctors were going to attempt to operate, but her chances were… well, not good is putting it mildly."
"That's a very specific time frame." Dean's green eyes were a little darker than a moment ago, and Emma had to bite down on a smile. Yeah, he knew where this was going.
"It needs to be. In forty-four days, a nice little doggie is going to drag my ass all the way to Hell. I want to know exactly when he's coming."
"You sold your soul?!" Looked like Sam had finally returned.
"For your little sister." Dean wasn't asking a question. Emma had a feeling that if anyone could understand what she'd done, it was Dean Winchester.
"Yeah, for Ava. I figured, what's a little Hell as long as she gets to live a long life?" Ava was young, innocent, and normal. Emma had spent the past seven years killing monsters, and she was tired. So she didn't mind checking out as long as Ava got to live the life that she deserved.
"Bobby know?"
"Yeah, Dean, Bobby knows. He's the one that's gonna come salt and burn my bones when it's all said and done."
"How do you know where you'll be?" Sam asked. He was standing next to the table holding a plastic container with what looked like a pie inside of it, and Dean was staring at it like a man lost in the desert looked at a bucket of water.
"I know," she said with a small smile as she got to her feet. She grabbed her leftovers and looked between the two brothers. "Now, boys, it's been fun but it's time for me to go. It was really nice meeting you both and everything, but I've lingered here for long enough. Clock's ticking, you know?"
"Sure you don't want backup?" Sam was sweet and definitely her favorite. She paused in the doorway to the little motel room with a bag containing a half-eaten burger and some cold fries in one hand and a watery soda clutched in the other. She looked over her shoulder, met the two curious stares aimed at her, and smiled.
"You've got bigger fish to fry, and I'm future dog chow. Don't worry, you'll forget all about me after a little while. I'll be a blip in your memory. Take care!"
Emma breathed in the night air after closing the door behind her and then started walking. It hadn't been the usual night, not by a longshot, but it'd been a good one nonetheless. Now it was time to head to Florida to check on a possible vampire infestation.
28 APRIL 2010
A painted school bus was parked on the side of an old back road leading into Gaston, Indiana as a storm raged all around. There'd been no point in trying to drive through the mess, so the bus had been parked. Emma Motley was deaf to the storm and passed out in the back, worn out from a hunt that she'd finished earlier that day, when it happened. Quiet little sighs were pushing past her lips to move the hair stubbornly clinging to her cheeks, and her arms were thrown above her head. The light was warm as it wrapped over her skin, and the sleeping hunter shifted on the mattress. Whispering pleas went unheard to the outside world, and Emma exhaled a single word before falling still. The light sunk into her skin within a few seconds, and it was all over.
02 MAY 2010
"Hey, Bobby." Fuck, was that her voice? Emma barely recognized the wrecked sound squeezing out of her voice box, and she coughed a bit to try and smooth the words out before slowly massaging around the jugular area. She was reclined back in the front seat of her bus, with her eyes clenched tightly shut, and she tried to focus on the sound of her own breathing.
"How ya holdin' up, Em?" Bobby was trying to keep his tone light, but she could hear the worry underneath the words.
"Hallucinations are getting worse, so I'm guessing it's almost time." As if being summoned, the sound of a faraway howl cut through the tense air in the bus. Yeah, it wouldn't be long now.
"Fun last day?" It was easy to hear the strain in the older hunter's voice, and Emma tried to picture his face. It'd been years since she'd actually seen him, she was always on the move for the next hunt with no time to slow down, and a hunter's life didn't leave much time for drop-ins or Sunday dinners.
"I went to see Ava. She's getting so big, and she looks more like Mom every time I see her. You'll check up on her, yeah?"
"Sure I will."
He won't. The world was getting ready to end; the Apocalypse was banging on the front door while Lucifer pilfered through the kitchen, and everyone in the know was yelling about End Times. Bobby didn't have time to check up on some kid living a perfectly normal life, but he owed her a lie since it was her last day. There were bigger baddies out there, and Emma didn't expect Bobby to do her any favors after she was dead and gone. It was a nice lie though. A comforting one, even.
Dark eyes opened to stare at the top of her bus, and she listened to Bobby just breathing on the other end of the phone. If she concentrated hard enough, she could picture the way that Ava looked earlier that afternoon. In the past year, Ava's hair had started to grow longer again. It was such a light brown that it looked nearly blonde, like their Mom's hair. It was even perfectly straight and refused to curl, also like Mom's. Ava had been playing softball with her friends. She'd been smiling and laughing and was healthy. In the long run, that was all Emma cared about.
"Where are you?" Bobby's voice popped her back into the present, and she leaned up in her seat to look out of the bus's windows. She caught sight of some road signs and quickly rattled them off. California was a pretty good ways from South Dakota, but this place was mostly deserted. Which was weird since it was the beginning of May, but whatever.
"I'm going to walk down the beach, but it's bordered by some woods. I'll try to make it past the tree line before… yeah. It's a remote stretch of beach, so if you haul ass, you should get here before anyone else. I think there's still enough time."
"You're not even gonna fight?"
"What's there to fight? I knew what I was getting into, Bobby." She'd already had her mind made up the night she snuck into the hospital to hold Ava's hand, just for a moment while her little sister was heavily sedated.
"That's the thing, Em, I don't think ya do. Ya got no idea what's gonna happen to ya when ya get down there." Bobby sounded so tired, and Emma hated putting her baggage on him. Unfortunately, there was no one else that she trusted quite like the older hunter. Not with something like this, anyway.
"Unimaginable agony and a complete loss of self? The possibility of coming back topside as a demon? I get it, Bobby, I do… but what choice do I have? Go back on the deal and let Ava die? And don't give me that way-it's-supposed-to-be bullshit. She's a normal kid, and she's going to live a normal life."
"Alright, kid, I'm hearin' ya. Just wish there was another way."
"Another way for a hunter is just letting some other baddie get in the killing swing. It was real nice knowing you, Bobby." Emma snapped the phone shut before he could say another word and drew in a shuddering breath.
She tossed the phone into the back of the bus, kicked her flip-flops off into the floorboard, and popped the doors open before walking down the steps and outside. Her feet hit pavement first, and she closed the modified bus door before reaching up. She pulled on the tie holding her hair up and sighed once her hair fell free around her shoulders. If she was going to die, it wasn't going to be with a headache because she forgot to undo her hair. The sun was warm against her skin when she tipped her face up, and she rolled her shoulders before she started walking.
The warm sand tickled the bottom of her feet as she walked out onto the beach, and she dug her toes into the feeling. There was a nice breeze coming over the water and cooling her skin, and she dragged her hands through her messy hair as the first few tears fell. After all her years of fighting, it was almost over. She was done, and this was a good place to die. The sand was warm on her feet, and the sun was hanging low in the sky and painting the horizon in some beautiful ass colors. The sound of a distant howl made her choke out a laugh that sounded like a sob, and she kept her eyes locked on the water with the dark smudge of woods on her peripheral. Ava had been wearing a red baseball hat, and she'd had black lines painted beneath her eyes as she laughed with her friends. Another howl, and it wouldn't be long now.
Definitely a nice place to die.
SAM
"You sure this is the place, Bobby?" Sam asked as his eyes scanned the stretch of beach, but he didn't see anything. As they drove on, he noticed a lone dark-painted bus parked close to the beach.
"Yeah, this is the place. Look, I know we got more important things to do, so thanks for comin' out here with me."
"Emma seemed like a sweet girl." Dean was being unusually quiet as he stared out of the passenger window, and Sam had a small idea about why.
"Then you didn't really know Emma." Bobby's smile was fond and a little sad as he parked next to the dark bus. Sam's eyes scanned the beach again, but he still couldn't see evidence of anyone being there recently. He tried to look at his brother, but Dean's eyes were closed. Bobby grabbed a small duffel bag and stepped out of the car, and Sam clambered after him.
"I know we only talked to her for an hour or so, but she seemed like a good person," Sam said as he easily caught up to the older hunter.
"She was. A damned fine hunter too."
They were almost to the tree line when Sam noticed the deep grooves in the sand, and he knew Bobby saw them too because the older hunter huffed and followed the trail. Running footsteps marked the sand, and Sam tried not to wince when he caught sight of blood streaked across the ground. The trail led into the woods, and Sam and Bobby were both quiet as they walked. It didn't take them long to find her, because she hadn't made it far after getting into the woods. He could see the outline of her body before they got close, sprawled on her back, but his steps didn't falter.
They stopped next to the body, and Sam had to take a steadying breath. For a moment, all he could see was Dean lying dead in front of him with his body ripped to shreds. This wasn't Dean though. This was Emmaline Grace Motley, a hunter who traded her soul for her little sister's life. So, not Dean but definitely cut from the same cloth. She was barefoot, and her feet seemed untouched. The baggy white shorts she had been wearing were shredded and covered in blood. Her blaringly bright yellow tank top was in the same condition, and Sam really didn't like seeing her insides on the outside. Her dark brown hair was haloed around her head, and wide brown eyes stared unseeing up at the clear blue sky.
"Help me grab some wood," Bobby grunted and turned away.
Together, Bobby and Sam made a very small pyre to give her a proper hunter's farewell. It was small and quickly thrown together, because they had other things to worry about, but Emma deserved something. Still, before long, they were standing next to the burning body and keeping quiet. Emma Motley was a body that would never be found, a girl without a family to mourn her, another hunter lost to the life. It was a damn tragedy.
"So, what now?" Sam asked as they walked across the beach towards the car.
"Can you drive the bus back? She asked me to keep it, use it however I wanted," Bobby said quietly.
"Yeah, no problem. See you back at the house." Sam clapped Bobby's shoulder before they separated, and he walked over to the dark bus and was surprised when he realized that it was an actual school bus. The door was different from a normal school bus but opened easily, so it was unlocked.
Sam had to let the seat way back before he could even sit inside, and he spent a few moments cradling the old black flip-flops from the floorboard in his hands. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the same pair she'd been wearing when they met a couple of months ago. The same flip-flop he had stepped on in a crowded bar when he accidentally knocked her to the side. She chose to die barefoot. Did she want to feel the sand between her toes before dying? He thought that maybe, just maybe, she'd felt a small measure of peace before dying.
Sam dropped the flip-flops onto the couch behind the driver seat and reached for the keys still in the ignition. One of the keychains was a dangling zombie head and another was a huge sunflower. Just who was this girl? Out of curiosity, Sam glanced at the back of the bus. It had been transformed into a small living space, complete with couches and counters and a bed at the very back. There were also personal touches shown by a big open trunk sitting on one of the couches, a tee shirt was hanging off a lamp bolted to the ceiling, and a few other things were scattered about. He popped open the lockbox over the driver's seat, overlooked the usual vehicle paperwork, and pulled out a good-sized leather book. A hunter's journal, with lime green shoelaces holding the whole thing together. Large fingers deftly undid the laces, flipped open the front cover, and read the single line on the first page.
Emma Motley's Guide To Baddies & Exorcism 101
He laughed. It was wrong, because she was suffering in Hell, but he couldn't help it. Suddenly, he wished they had met the young hunter sooner. He would've liked to have known her. Talked to her. Listened to her. There was a coconut scented air freshener and a shot glass from Vegas dangling over the rearview mirror, and there was a scratched up iPod hooked up to the installed radio. He looked back down at the journal and rubbed a thumb over the words on the first page before carefully tying it closed again. He placed Emma's journal on the small couch, next to her flip-flops, and quickly pulled on his seatbelt. With a quiet sigh, he started up the bus and pulled away from the beach.
There were more pressing things to worry about than a hunter who had said a final farewell, like the looming Apocalypse.
•X•
Finis: I first started working on this story when Season 8 was still airing, so I've been writing on it off and on for about five years now. Emma is still one of my favorite OCs, and I hope you like her as well!