Skeletons In the Closet

A/N: I know the plot has been done over and over again but in my defense the idea for this story didn't start with: 'what if Bobby had a daughter?'. No, the idea came from the question I asked myself when I first saw "Dream A Little Dream of Me": 'even with a demon possessing her, what would cause Bobby to actually stab his wife?' I figured she had to have been doing something really bad to push him to that point and this story just ended up being about Bobby's daughter.

If you're still willing to try and read this, I'm going to warn you this first part isn't something for those of you who don't like to read things about kids getting hurt. Its nothing too graphic, but just in case I'd thought I'd tell you.

"16 Years"

After the day her mother died, Emma had made absolutely certain she did her best to do what was expected of her. It would almost seem childish but she had her reasons.

Fear and time had blurred the memory but it still had power over her. She knew that it was her nightmares that had colored her mother's eyes black in her memory, but her night terrors hadn't made the reality of that night any worse and the years hadn't made it any better.

She'd been seven when she had caught her mother trying to drown her little brother in the bathtub. When she'd asked what was going on their mother had turned to her and said that Chris had been bad and was being punished. Terrified Emma had fought hard for her little brother; clawing and screaming to save him. That's what had woken their father up; he had come running down the hall to and taken a horrified look and pulled their mother back. It had given Emma time to drag her crying baby brother from the tub.

Her mother hadn't stopped; she'd pushed their father out of the way with an unnatural strength and came for them again. Fingers curled to look like claws as she reached for her and her brother. Emma had pushed Chris out of reach but she'd been picked up by her hair and shoved face first into the still full bathtub.

She can remember blood mixing with the water as she struggled just before her mother let go of her and she managed to climb out of the tub. Crying, Emma had all but dragged her little brother down the hall and away from the bathroom.

She and Chris were found some time later by their father hiding in her closet, and not much longer the police arrived.

Their father wasn't convicted of murder, but he was seen as an unfit parent by the court, and Emma and Chris had been sent to live with their aunt and uncle in Mississippi. After which she never spoke another word about what happen to anyone.

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Emma had spent the majority of the last four years at Louisiana State University. She'd picked that college because she had always had a fascination with the city of New Orleans where it was located, and having earned a full ride thanks to her grades certainly had helped narrow down her choices.

Her family had driven down from Mississippi to watch her walk across the stage to accept her diploma. When they asked her the next day if she'd be coming back home with them she had told them about her new job lined up and the apartment she had picked out in the French Quarter. None of them had suspected that wasn't the truth because Emma was always the responsible and dependable one.

She felt increasing guilty as her little family accepted her lie without any hesitation, especially when she knew how bad it might hurt them to know the truth.

Aunt Sally, the woman who had raised her since she was seven, kissed her check and wished her luck. Then reminded her that if she needed anything, anything at all, to just call. Uncle Derek, who had done his best for her and her brother since the day they had come to his home sixteen years ago, gave her a bear hug and told her to be careful while on her own and slipped her a new can of mace for her key chain. Then her little brother, Chris, forever the rebel, gave her an awkward hug and told her that it wasn't a crime to have some fun once in awhile, especially in New Orleans.

Emma watched them pull away from the curve and waived good bye as they drove away. When they were out of sight she headed back to her dorm and packed her car up. She was out of the city an hour later, with a carefully mapped out destination that would end at a junk yard in North Dakota. She had given up waiting on her Daddy to come and explain things to her. For the sake of her sanity she needed a better understanding of that night.

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Bobby cursed as he heard the knocking on his front door. He turned his wheel chair around and tried to maneuver through his house with out hitting anything. His home hadn't been designed for the handicap.

"I'm coming." He barked out as the knocking started again, when he was only feet away from the door.

He made sure his gun was in reach, propped up on the wall out of sight, before he reached forward and turned the door knob.

Standing on his porch was a dark haired young woman, who stared openly when she saw him. "Something I can do for you?" He snapped when she didn't say anything.

"Bobby Singer?" She asked ringing her hands, in an almost comical fashion. He figured by the way she was acting this girl must have a problem of the paranormal variety and she had gotten his name from somewhere. It wouldn't have been the first time this sort of thing had happen.

"Yea, now what do you want?" His social skills had never been great, but after being in a wheel chair they had only worsened.

She opened her open to say something, but nothing came out. He watched her take a deep breath and try again. "I'm…my name is Emma Singer."

A/N: Now leave a review telling me what you think.