Hello everyone!

My name is Shellby - and welcome to the second installation of my Supernatural Fanfiction series. :) Repeated, this is the SECOND installation, so to my new readers if you haven't read the first one you might be a little confused. I suggest going back and reading it.
To my return readers, welcome!
My inbox and review section is totally open to your critique and feedback on The Truth May Vary and what you want to see in this story. This chapter's going to be kind of short, but I hope y'all like it regardless.

CHAPTER 1

The world was always gonna seem a bit darker without Emma around. The Winchesters had already begun to fall apart. Dean was drinking; Sam had left. Dean blamed Sam (and Sam blamed himself) for her death – and the apocalypse that loomed over their heads like a plague. They still couldn't find Maggie. Bobby was sullen, especially without the use of her legs. Someone was going to crack under all the pressure. The world was going to have to hope it would wait for the saving of the world.

Chuck leaned back in his chair and rubbed one dirty hand over his eyes, the other hand holding a bottle of whiskey loosely. Tears pricked the sides of his eyes as he thought about the blonde and redhead girls at his door what seemed like yesterday. He was gonna miss those two.

The headache came as it always did. He squinted his eyes and ran his hand down his face, his body tense as he waited for the next vision. It came in flashes like the others did.

A dimly lit hotel lobby. Symbols on the walls. Dean and Sam… Dean and Sam what? Held up to the wall with some kind of force.

Another flash.

Emma Gordon's head was thrown back and she was laughing. The same dimly lit hotel lobby. Her eyes weren't black. It was her.

Flash!

Emma leaned forward and held the hand of a black eyed demon in a smart suit. Slowly, she put her lips to his. Some kind of a deal was being made.

Everything faded back to normal. Gasping for air, Chuck wondered if he should call Dean. He decided against it. Emma was dead anyways.

-+s+-

"Emma!" … it was foggy … a question in the darkness of the back of her mind … Who's Emma? "Emma! Emma, baby, wake up!" The smell of a campfire was the first thing Emma Gordon noticed as each of her senses returned to her. Slowly, the woman opened her green eyes to stare at the face of a man in front of her. She recognized this man…

"Daddy?"

"Hey sleepyhead, c'mere! We're gonna miss it!" her father put his arms around her like she was a child and lifted her onto his back. She felt the familiar warmth of her father against her skin, and breathed in his scent – menthol cigarettes, car grease, and aftershave. They were in a field.

"Dad? What are we doing here?" She felt her bare feet hit the ground, soft against the bottoms of her feet as the tops of the wheat brushed her bare legs, and she was no longer in her father's arms, but was watching as a small blonde child with bare feet and a big t-shirt was being carried, piggyback, into the middle of a field of wheat. She was bouncing against his back in excitement and waving a little flag in her hand.

Very much like a brick, the truth of what Emma was watching hit her, and she stumbled back on her bare feet against the wheat, leaving a trail as she stared. She remembered this. The Fourth of July before she had met the demon… Sara… They had gone out into the middle of their fields in Oklahoma and watched the fireworks. This was one of the rare nights that her father didn't scream at her. One of the rare nights that he was his old self again. "Happy Fourth of July, baby." Her father was saying to the little girl. Emma felt tears pooling in her eyes as she stood behind her father and her little self, staring up at the fireworks that glinted off the miles and miles of fields.

"You can't stay here." Emma's blonde hair whirled around her as she turned quickly to look at the man that was standing at the edge of the field, where a rundown dirt road was. Emma frowned and saw him standing next to her truck – the one she had inherited from her father after he had died. The sides of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. Emma frowned at him and took another glance at the fireworks, her father's profile in the corner of her eye, before staring at the man once again.

"Who are you?"

"My name's John." The man said kindly, but gruffly, "This is my wife – Mary." A blonde woman came walking out of the trees to smile at the young hunter in the field.

"Why can't I stay here?" Emma asked. Her voice sounded small.

"You can," John said, shrugging his shoulders. "But we know you – and we know that as soon as we tell you our sons need your help you'll come running." The both of them smiled.

"Your sons? Your…" like a great wind, everything came back to her. Emma saw in her mind's eye herself lying on the floor in a convent… Ruby, Lilith,, Maggie, Sam and Dean… Dean… "Dean? And Sam?" the woman nodded. "You're-"

"John and Mary Winchester." The woman said with a smile as she came forward, "It's very nice to meet you, Emma."

"I'm dead." Emma suddenly came to the realization. Mary Winchester nodded.

"You've been dead for a month. It's taken us a little while to find you." Emma backed up a step and shook her head.

"A month? What's happened to Dean and Sam?" her voice sounded shrill.

"Come with us and we'll tell you what's goin' on." John said, and Emma nodded slowly, walking to the end of the field before turning her head back. The fireworks were gone – as was her father.

The three of them ended up outside of an old abandoned bar that Emma immediately recognized. Ash, as always, was waiting for her at the window. With a scream of delight, Emma ran toward the Roadhouse and wrapped her arms around the scrawny kid.

"Hey Emma!" he yelled into her ear as the two of them spun around for a second. She pulled away and grinned, pushing her hair out of her face. "Don't suppose now that you're dead you'll take that date with me?"

"You wish, kid." Emma teased him in their normal fashion and the two of them waited for John and Mary to catch up to them before going inside the bar. "Ash," Emma finally said after they were all holding beers, "Look, I'm really sorry – ain't no reason you should be dead."

"Nah, I like it up here." Ash said and Emma was taken aback, raising her eyebrows, "Good beer, free rent, I had Elvis in here the other day for a game of pool. He can play!"

"Don't you miss Jo and Ellen?" Emma asked, tilting her head to the side. He was right, this beer was beyond good.

"I look in on all of you from time to time, but you seemed to be doing a pretty good job of ending the world without me around." Emma's face deadpanned, and John cleared his throat, but Ash only laughed. "Kidding!"

"Emma?" the voice was one that she had heard the moment she had woken up. With her hand clenched in a fist, and fear in her heart, Emma turned her head back toward the man that was standing in the doorway. Everyone in the room got quiet, even Ash.

The man had dark brown hair, was well built, and wore a faded army jacket and combat boots with his dark clothes. Emma's heart skipped a beat as he walked in, his hands in the air.

"I know you must be angry with me, but… just hear me out."

"I told you it wasn't a good idea for you to be here." Mary Winchester scolded the man. "Adam, you shouldn't be here."

"This is my daughter," Adam said, looking at Mary almost coldly, "This is the only place I should be." Emma still said nothing as he walked toward her. She didn't move, only kept his eye contact closely. "Emma…"

"What could you possibly have to say to me?" Emma cut him off coldly, "How did you even get up here anyways?"

"I learned the errors of my ways, mainly. Went through a lot to get here. I was stuck on Earth for quite a while – even saved your life a couple times without you knowin'. You remember that kid that used to smoke in bed in that foster home you was in? Woulda burned down the whole house. I stopped him." Adam's deep southern accent, his kind tone, made Emma look away. "Look I don't expect you to believe me, or to forgive me, or even love me no more, but… I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let the drink take me like that, even after the war. I don't blame you for what you did, and nobody's judgin' but God."

"Ain't nobody's place to judge a child for what she did in fear." Emma said, her green eyes flitting back to the same green eyes that were staring at her. She folded her arms above her chest and stared at him for the longest time. "I don't forgive you. Not yet anyways. But I believe you, and I always loved you – no matter how many times you screwed up and drank and swung your fists. I never stopped lovin' you daddy." Adam's face shone with tears, "I always knew you were sick."

Before either of them knew it, Emma was wrapped in her father's arms tightly. She felt the tears prickling down her face slowly as her father's shoulders shook with sobs. It was a long moment before he let go and smiled at her. "Lemme buy you a beer?" Emma laughed.

"Where's mama?" she asked an hour later as she was sitting at the bar with her father. She had told him about her life – what he didn't know already – and explained to him what had happened with Sara – when she first made a deal with the little girl. "Sara knew all along you were going to be the one she was going to possess, she just needed to get her claws into you first."

"Your mama?" Adam asked as he leaned himself back into his chair. The other three were talking behind the bar. "I don't know… I've been tryin' to find her since we died, but I don't much believe she wants to be found yet. Not by me anyway. One of these days."

"Emma….." a voice floated through the air and all five of the people in the room turned their heads toward the source of it. John ran his hand through his hair.

"Looks like you gotta go, kid." He said.

"Go?" Emma asked, confused.

"Well yeah!" Ash laughed from behind the bar, "The world's ending, you need to get back in the game! C'mere and give me a hug." There was only a moment for Emma to give each of them a short, puzzled embrace until she heard it again.

"Emma!" it was Castiel's voice. She recognized it this time. With a frown at the others, she walked toward the door and looked around until she saw the flash of a familiar trenchcoat standing in front of her.

"Cas?"

"We must hurry." Castiel said. His forehead was cut and he was glancing around cautiously. "I only have a few moments to do this." Emma's father was standing behind her, and he nodded to Castiel.

"You gotta go, honey." His voice was sad as he wrapped his arms around Emma. She hugged him back tightly, against her immediate instinct. "I'll see you when you come back, but not too soon, y'hear?"

"I hear." Emma replied, nodding. "Find mama." Adam only nodded before Castiel put his fingers on her forehead and the Roadhouse faded out of her sight, and she felt as if she was falling.

Back to earth she went.