This is the sequel to 'Carry me trough' which was my Once upon a time/SUpernatural crossover story that I wrote for het big bang. There was a lot of request for a sequel and I always intended to write one, though it might take a while before the whole fic is up. I will try to post once a week, usually around the same time.

There is a lot more of Once Upon a Time Season 1 specifically (though with things we learned in teh later seasons trown in) but it won't show up until later in the fic.

Title is from the same song as the one from the other fic.

I don't own either Once Upon a Time or Supernatural.

Later, when it's all over and she thinks back to that time – should she, of course, choose to do this at all – the thing Emma will remember the most about that first week is that the window in the room Bobby gave her didn't close completely. She's not sure why that is what she remembers, why when she closes her eyes it's that image of a not quite closed window that haunts her, but it does and there's no changing it.

It's easier to remember, she supposes, than the pain she felt.

The abandonment.

The grieve.

She also remembers, though she can't quite say when it happened - but Sam disappeared after that first week so it must have been then – seeing Sam, grief-stricken, staring ahead. He looked terrible, dozens of emotions flickering across his face – pain, anger, guilt. She'd thought, in that moment when she first saw him that she should go and talk to him, sit by his side and hold his hand. Hold back that anger that fierce anger that threatened to swallow him whole, be there for him. Be his friend. Be what Dean – who had loved Sam above everything else, though Emma likes to imagine that if he had had the change to know his child he would have loved him or her just as much – would want her to be. Because they're all that's left now, the two of them and Bobby.

She could do it to, it would be easy, all she has to do is gather the courage to walk up to him and tell him 'I'm pregnant.' Maybe that will save him maybe that will make him fight. Fight to protect the child of his brother. But she doesn't. The grieve is too harsh, the pain too terrible, it's almost impossible for her to walk around, to stand, to breathe. She can only imagine, and she doesn't really want to, what it is that Sam is feeling, which must be ten thousand times worse than what she is feeling. But still it's impossible to find the right worse, to find a way to convene that he isn't alone when he is, when they all are. She can't tell him it will all be alright because she doesn't believe that either. All she is an 'I'm pregnant' and she doesn't know how to say it when she never got to say it to the one person that mattered.

It doesn't matter anyway.

The one time she comes close enough to say something to him – she thinks it must have been the second day but then it might have been later who knows, who cares – he takes one look at her and runs away. There's no anger in his eyes, at least none that she could see in the second their eyes met, just pain and guilt.

And then one day when she wakes he's just gone.

Run off in his anger, in his grieve, run off to punish those that did this to them. And Emma thinks how stupid, how selfish, because all this will lead to is the second dead Winchester and she and Bobby will be here, picking up the pieces. She wants to scream, call him and say 'come back, stay alive, don't you get it, that's the only thing Dean would want. The only thing that would matter to him.' But she doesn't – she's a coward really, but then she already knew that, didn't she?

She stays in her room after that, lying on her bed, staring at a window that doesn't quite close. Trying to remember a time when everything was better, trying to imagine how things might have gone differently. Perhaps if they'd fought harder, perhaps if she'd stayed, perhaps if so many years ago John Winchester hadn't decided that vengeance was so important, perhaps then life would have been better. (She wouldn't have known Dean in that life but she doesn't care. Because in that, in that world, Dean is alive and that is all that matters.)

Time passes without her knowledge. Day becomes night and then becomes day again and she just lies there. She eats, she knows she does otherwise she'd be sick by now and Bobby talks to her, she knows that too, although she could never say what it is he said to her. Not that she thinks it truly matters. And not that she thinks it was especially profound or helping, but still she wishes she could remember it. If only to be able to hold onto something.

A week passes – she thinks at least – before she gets up again, moving through the house like a ghost. And she only does it because she hears something, somebody really. Some strange noise she recognize and yet doesn't at the same time. Some noise that belongs in this time, in this grieve, but that she never thought she'd actually hear. Somebody is crying, sobbing really, trying to be silent but not succeeding.

Actually Bobby is crying.

Because he's grieving, because he too loved Dean. A fact which she, drowning in her own grieve, had actually forgotten. She finds him on the couch, shaking, crying, holding a bottle of liquor he's half-finished. She stands in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in, and thinking how wrong she was. They're not alone – not in their pain, not in their grieve – they've never been. They've always been together, she just hasn't been able to see it until now, standing in the dark, watching a man she barely knows grieve over the man she loves. Their only way of survival, the only way to reach the future she right now can't imagine, is to do it together, which is what Dean would have wanted. (Sam should have stayed, she thinks too, because now she has the words, now she knows what to say to him to make him stay, now that it's too late.)

She sits beside Bobby on that couch and places her head on his shoulders and then she cries.

Tomorrow, tomorrow they'll start again. Tomorrow she'll cook Bobby breakfast – which , to be fair, is the only meal she can actually cook – and then she'll convince him to take her to town so that she can get every book on pregnancy there is. She'll try calling Sam, to tell him to come back and, if she cannot convince him – which she doubts she can – to ask him to tell her how to help. Tomorrow they'll start living again, no matter how much it hurts, because they have to, because it's the only road left.

Because it's what Dean would have wanted.

But tonight, tonight they cry.

Together.